Novelas y relatos de Soul Eater: Perfect Edition How Many Volumes

The circle of elder reapers — thirteen shadows bound by ancient oaths — sat frozen in their thrones, staring at the crimson flare on the center dais where containment schematics shimmered. A younger attendant stumbled forward, pale and shaking. “The ward surrounding Cell 9 collapsed, High Councilor. Defensive measures have failed. The signatures inside—” He faltered, eyes wide. “—have multiplied.” “Multiplied?” Soreth’s voice cut like glass. “Impossible. It’s a two-occupant field.” “It was, Councilor. Now it reads eight distinct reaper signatures.” That broke the silence. Murmurs surged through the chamber. Chairs scraped. Cloaks rustled like restless wings.

I sat in my room for three days. Not dramatically. I attended to my duties — the morning cleaning rotation, the evening meal service, the geomun'go practice that Mistress Hana insisted upon regardless of scheduling or emotional state. I did these things. I did them correctly. I did them without letting anything show on my face, which was not difficult because I had been trained since childhood to perform tasks without letting things show on my face. Between duties, she sat on my sleeping mat and thought. Soul Sight activates upon soulbound recognition, I had read, in the texts. The connection, once formed, cannot be unformed. The soul recognizes what it has always been bound to.

Trung knew I’d been there, somehow, and knew I’d seen. “Is there anything I can get you, Master Nate? A few pints of blueberries, perhaps?” I managed to shake my head on its fear-frozen neck. “No thanks,” I rasped. “Well then,” he whispered, smile widening into something unpleasant, “perhaps you’d like to pass the time playing a round of Sốphận.” He extended the box toward me. And to this day, I swear on my life the silver-inlaid design on its lid was moving.

Only if I had known my soul would have been sold for nothing, I would have ended it. The room hadn't changed a bit all these years. Same dark walls that made the room intimidating and the absolute perfection in the way it was organized just as its owner, hiding all that evil just barely underneath the surface, simmering and waiting for the perfect time to strike its prey. I repressed a shudder and took a seat waiting for him to notice my presence in the room. He was writing in a journal on the desk, I had always wondered what he wrote in there, the number of people he killed, or the latest mission he accomplished?

They made him feel calm. Tristan sat on the edge of the bed. He held a drink. "You need this," Tristan said. "I don't," Josh replied. "You know that I don't like to drink." Tristan didn't listen. He was insistent. He practically commanded the cup into Josh’s hands. Josh rolled his eyes but grabbed the cup. He took a sip. Then another. The alcohol burned. It coated his throat. It began to blur the sharp edges of his mind. The perfectionism in his life started to fade. Imperfection was moving into him. It was infecting every particle of his body and his mind.

It was the other man who made the suggestion, and both of them made a solemn oath to each other that they would never again discuss what happened that night. Before they eventually made their way home that night, they hurriedly dumped the corpses of Mr and Mrs Blair into the ocean and got rid of every piece of evidence that they could find before they did so... ****************** "A Luna has been reincarnated in two separate bodies, and her fate has been divided as a result of the curse that she carries. One will usher in an era of tranquility for the human race, while the second will usher in an era of calamity for her kind!"

Dear Reader Thank you for reading the first chapter of the book called, My Perfect Mess. My Perfect Mess was originally written as an Interactive Story Game. I am in the process of adapting it into a novel form. The original version contains a great deal of dialogue to fit the platform for which it was intended. Though you can enjoy the story in its interactive format too as currently published. (eg when Becca speaks, the format will be as this: Becca ~ “What is there to explain, Matt.”)

Prince Jeiel shouted with all the coldness and brutality he had in him. The warriors nodded and made an enchanting clack with their swords, hitting it on their iron shield. Prince Jeiel stood at their front, he wasn't so certain they were going to win the battle but what he was so certain of was dying along with that evil man holding an evil staff. He had came to war with 500 men but now what's left isn't up to 50. Father's, husbands, sons all gone for his father's little mistake.

"He found me. He won't quit until I'm dead." Evelyn's lips drew together in consideration. Then she wheeled, moving over to a bookshelf on the far wall. "Damien always did have a grudge to bear," she said, running her finger along the spines of dusty, old books. Lena's brow wrinkled. "You knew?" Evelyn snorted. "Of course, I knew." She grabbed a book from the shelf. It was heavier than it looked. When she opened it, the removed core revealed a small stack of old photos and a flash drive.

The screen went dark, reflecting my pale face. I thought this would be the peak of my pain, the ultimate humiliation he could inflict upon me. But I was wrong. Just as I was about to leave the suffocating room, a violent tremor shot through the depths of my soul. It was a summons to the Soul Nexus. It was also the highest level of mental invitation Aiden could send me. The mate bond grew warm, carrying a rare hint of pleading, trying to soften my rigid nerves.