Soul Keeper Novels & Stories

Never. *** Keeper of Stone Hideout: "Why didn't the Creator stop them from stealing his Soul or has it not come to his notice that the soul of one of his prisoners is gone by now?" Gon asked with a raised brow. "That's why you two are here to do the job, you hand back his soul to me and I will take it back to where it truly belongs." "But how are we going to do that? And just so you know, we can't hurt Raziah if that's what you want to explain here." Gon said and Dark nodded after him in support.

(means Spiritual). While version one has just ended, version two is immediately aired under the 120-decibel-voice of the Sponger tribe's chief - Fong ge, a stockbroker from the company downstairs. Her nickname is a combination of the movie “High kick”, because of the motto “where there's food, there's me” and the personality can not be more manly. To talk about her rapping skill, even Eminem has to bow down, so it is just impossible to recall verbatim, briefly, about five years ago, in a stormy day, there was a girl whose umbrella was blown away, came to this clinic by heaven's fate. Since then, with inexplicable ability to attract customers, she has revived a building that was never golden

"You should throw that away, honestly! Something like that will knock you back or destroy you even more than before!« She just shook her head. I handed it back to her and she quickly took it from me, greedily grabbing it. “No, I'm definitely not going to throw that picture away. ...It's going in my keepsake box!" I did not understand the world anymore. "To always remind you of the person who left you?" I really couldn't understand it. “Yes, so to speak! This box contains everything that is important in my life, I keep finding moments that were important or meant something to me ... it contains everything why I am the way I am now!« "I do not understand! How can someone like that come into yo

Scott asks, though his tone suggests he knows there is more to this. Harken bites his tongue. “I don’t know, that’s the same assumption I have, though. You are my only backer, and with you gone I have no means to defend myself if he happens to frame me in anyway. I already suspect that’s why he is so eager to have me help, not just because I’m the perfect fit for the job, but also, he needs a scapegoat. I’m on parole at the moment, one wrong move and I’m done for, whereas he has more than enough protection if anything goes wrong.”

Its voice echoed from every direction. Not loud. Yet impossible to ignore. Gabriel instinctively stepped in front of Amara. The shadow looked at him. "You still protect others..." "...while refusing to forgive yourself." Gabriel froze. "I know your heart." The shadow continued. "I have watched every generation." Amara gathered her courage. "What are you?" The silver eyes closed briefly. "I was once called Daniel." "A Keeper." "The first Keeper after Magnus." Hope nodded silently. "It is true." Amara's breath caught.

uffed a laugh—more feral than anything. “The food is fine for you to eat, human.” Those strange green eyes pinned me to the spot, as if he could detect every muscle in my body that was priming to bolt. “Leave, if you want,” he added with a flash of teeth. “I’m not your jailer. The gates are open—you can live anywhere in Duskarra.” And no doubt be eaten or tormented by a wretched witches. But while every inch of this place was civilized and clean and beautiful, I had to get out, had to get back. That promise to my mother, cold and vain as she was, was all I had. I made no move toward the food. “Fine,” he said, the word laced with a growl, and began serving himself. I didn’t have to face the c

And beside the fire stood a figure cloaked in obsidian robes, their face hidden. “I wondered when the flame-child would come,” the figure said, voice neither male nor female. “But I did not expect you to come alone.” Isabella stepped forward, cautious. “Who are you?” “I am what remains. The Keeper. The Womb of Flame.” “The Elders said nothing of you.” “The Elders forgot many things when they chose fear over memory.” She circled the heart-fire, watching it flicker in rhythm with her own pulse. “You watched everything,” she said. “You could have stopped it.”

The skin burned, as though the text itself resisted me. “Echoes,” I muttered. The keeper flinched. “Do not speak of them aloud.” “Why? What are they?” His milky eyes blinked rapidly. For the first time, I saw fear in him. “Fragments of a soul. Splinters left behind in stone, blood, or bone. Dangerous. Persistent. Harder to kill than the man himself.” “And they claim all of his were destroyed?” The keeper bowed his head. “So it is written.” “But you don’t believe it.”