Soul Burning Novels & Stories

As I stare into the tiny flame the old ladies words keep playing in my mind “A soul is much like a flame. It does not exist to simply be. It must be fed and nourished so that a flame becomes a fire. However, precaution is needed to handle such a thing. In one’s control it can create such beauty and flow abundantly. Although, when out of control it can become the greatest distraction that will destroy everything in its path” As I recite them once more I blow out a breath heavily.

The agony in his screams was one that pierced not only the ears but the souls of everyone but noone helped him, they all watched him burn to death, with the agonizing blue flame, the hottest and most deadly flame known to mankind The agonizing blue flame was one that had been used in the dark ages but over time, it fizzled out, it was deemed to be too brutal of a means of punishment. Not only did it burn the flesh but it went on to burn the soul of the person even after death. The man's soul would continue to be plagued, even in the after life A hint of a smile, peeked out from the hood of the hooded figure, it was a smile that said a lot of words and at the same time said nothing at all

Everyone in the distance exclaimed, "He is burning his Soul's Life Source! ” The so-called burning of Soul's Life Source equated to fighting with one's life. Once the soul source was burned out, the person would disappear from the world entirely, not even entering the reincarnation. It was a fighting style that was more sad and shrill than the deliverance by weapons. The cloaked man felt a threat and urged his devil soul. Five black patches of fog went to Chanyu Zheng, however, when they came in contact with the white flame outside of his body, the black mist disappeared, and at this moment, he felt a cold murderous intent.

The countdown. She listened silently, arms crossed, expression tight. When I finished, she looked grim. “You have six days.” My stomach dropped. “Six?” “Yes. You were marked with a soul-burn,” she said. “That kind of branding is ancient magic. It doesn’t kill like poison. It waits. Builds. And then, when the time is right, it sets your blood on fire. You’ll burn from the inside out.” I went still. “Is there a way to stop it?”

Bri Beau blazed a trail over every inch of my body that burned down into my tattered heart, my soul, my very being. He was right this wasn’t fucking. Our souls were bared to one another, the one line held between us, which we knew we could not cross for our own sanity, and yet we continued to tease ourselves, egging on the other to make the first slip. These men and I were addicted to the dangerous game we played. One wrong move and our lives would be impossibly bound and tethered for the rest of our existence. But I couldn’t throw away this, this love. I would soak it up, and bathe in it, as selfish as it was. We deserved so much more.

The Trial's flames are still in my bones, burning with a heat that exists beyond the physical realm, a spiritual fire that sears from within. I can smell the smoke in my hair, acrid and otherworldly, though no earthly fire touched me during those hours of judgment. The scent clings like the memory of burning bridges, of old selves consumed in purifying flame. I can taste ash on my tongue, bitter as regret, though it was not my body that burned in those spirit-flames, it was my soul, stripped bare and cauterized clean.

And through the searing alchemical fire of vulnerability and hard-won perseverance, the Ghostwriter would be reborn from the ashes of his own destruction. I am a storyteller, a dreamer - and no matter how many times the world attempted to shatter him, the brave face would burn ever brighter. Woven not from arrogant facade, but the purifying bullion of the Soul Refiners' flames. In that moment, I could feel the stirrings of its molten heat licking at my tattered essence. And I welcomed the rebirth, no matter how excruciating, to burn away the specter of Hailey's phantoms at last.

“You broke me. And you thought I would never fight back.” My hand ignited with the purest white fire I’d ever conjured. I touched his chest—just lightly—and he screamed as the flames tunnelled into him. It wasn’t just burning skin anymore. It was burning his soul. I watched him writhe, each scream more ragged than the last, until his voice cracked and bled. Until he could only gurgle on his own agony. “You could’ve walked away,” I whispered, almost gently, as the flames began to rise higher. “But you came back. You hurt the one person I was still trying to protect from myself.”

I could see her finally breakdown and let out her anger, just like the very first time I ever saw and talked to her ten years ago. "I do everything he asks! I always follow him, even if it means giving up what I truly want, because it's been drilled into my head that I have to be a good daughter! I don't even know who I am anymore! Am I still myself? Or am I just a puppet, blindly obeying his every command?!" She cried even harder, I could feel the anger and pain in every word she let out... and it reminded me so much the way she cried that very first time I heard her, all those years ago, in that quiet park no one really visited.

"That's better, sweetheart. Now eat more. You'll need the strength so I can keep drinking your blood. A little pain is nothing. In a week at most, Megan will be crying at your feet, begging you to save her." Raven actually believed him. She nodded over and over, completely convinced. But what she didn't know was that Snowviper wanted more than just her blood. What he really craved was her soul. Back in my last life, the only reason Raven managed to turn Snowviper against me was because I refused to trick her into his hands. He'd already had his fill of blood, but he needed one last piece—a soul like his, the only kind that could keep his powers alive. Mine didn't qualify.