Soulless Novels & Stories

Bella explained, making Carissa even more confused. "Because of the accident, my soul died, Carissa, and now my body is empty, and you will occupy it. You will enter Arabella's body, live my life, and continue your life as me," he explained again. "But why? Why should I be you?" asked Carissa confusedly.

His dark aura pulsed like a black sun, casting an eerie glow across the tomb. Around him, the spirits of the seven deadly sins—Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Greed, and Lust—gathered in eerie harmony. They spoke in hushed tones, plotting their next move. They were powerful beings, ancient and destructive, planning to break the barrier that kept them from entering the world of the living, from entering the Christ—the realm they could dominate. "Time is running out," Nihil's voice echoed through the tomb, chilling and commanding. "We must act swiftly. Once we break the seal, we can bring this world to its knees."

The "Gold-Grey Static" from the CEO woman hit Silas Blackwood like a wave of conceptual acid. It wasn't the "Biological Remorse" he was used to; it was a "Synthetic Grief"—a simulated version of his own 30-year pride, amplified and distorted by the human’s unstable marrow. Silas fell to his knees on the white-glass floor, his gold-and-sapphire skin "glitching" as the human’s parasitic hunger tried to "Down-sample" his soul.

The possessed body sighed, raised the faces to the night sky, the face on the right side mouth was half-opened with slightly squinted eyes giving off a sarcastic smile and the other on the left side gave a muscled face, frozen in deep hatred. "Ah, feels good." The face on the center chillingly said clasping his eight arms around his possessed body, wholeheartedly embracing the new look. Then the possessed body held the centered face, "Ugh… how my minds against the memories of this body ache all over…" he beheld the Immortal on the humongous barrier. "Yes. That black chain on you, this body’s memories speak loudly on how it was said to have the power to extract the souls of the dead sending t

There was only the orange glow of forced labor. ​"It’s a 'Company-World'," Sophia whispered, her translucent gown flickering with a distressed red tint. "Kaelen, I can feel the 'Null-Link' here. It’s thick. The people... they aren't even registered as souls. They are 'Debt-Units'." ​"Look at the orbital platforms," Julian pointed out. "Those aren't defense stations. Those are 'Resource-Siphons'. They’re literally pulling the moisture out of the atmosphere to sell it back to the workers below."

2015, December 24th, England I stared at the lifeless woman, lying on the cold marble floor, her eyes wide open, and her pupils turned all white from once vibrant blue specs. I covered her naked body which had become pale white, with a white cloth. "Now, you are purified, my love..." I whispered coldly and smiled without humor at the cold body that was once warm with a burning desire for me during our copulation. All humans were born to be filthy and sinful and this lifeless woman was not different. An adulterer. A lustful, dirty woman. The moment she saw my deceitful beauty, she did not hesitate and jumped on my bait even when her husband dearly loved her. She had gotten what she deserved.

I wondered out loud. "A soulless human doesn't have what other humans have. They get hated, and bullied. For them, the world is colorless and dull. They are like a wanderer, living only because it's what others do. They search for something knowing they could never find it and that's happiness." Indeed, I was a soulless human. "A soulless human is what we have become because we fell in love when we shouldn't. And we should hate him, not love him because he's doing the same thing, and this time, he might succeed and the world would be covered with nothing but darkness."

the woman says, passing a hand over the long-sunken burial mound, and the release begins. The human shell goes limp in the earth, folding inward on itself. Begins to break down, the magic’s hold slipping. “Thank God,” it croaks thickly from somewhere deep in its putrefied throat, through more than a dozen years of madness and rot. “Hold me. Oh, God. Thank God.” It starts to disintegrate, slowly at first, faster, crumbling into dust and chunky fragments with a final exhalation of relief. It is done. Mrs. Wintermute rests in eternal repose—fifteen black, hellish years after her death. After her rebirth.

"No mistakes. Our plan is simple: gather clues, ask questions, and eventually turn the whispers into a roar." We walked back to the grand hall in silence, our footsteps quiet but our minds full of potential. I scribbled a reminder in my small notebook: "Silent contacts: Rosa, records acquaintance; Unlikely ally: David. Strategy: gather clues, find ledger, uncover dark rituals, sow discord."

Their faces were fixed in leering sneers, twisted into expressions no living being could replicate. My blood turned to ice. “They are Vel’sothars. Ancient beings who are the collectors of wandering souls. They bring them past the threshold between the freshly dead and the endless. Like bouncers at a club, it's hard to get past them,” Hera explained with eyes fixed on them. “How nice of Luna Sianna to omit this tiny little detail,” I grumbled, watching them. They settled down a pod between them, and the bond within me moiled. My eyes fastened on nothing but that pod, drawing me in like a beacon.