Soulreaper Of Nulgath Novels & Stories

Looked through us. “My life has been meaningless since he left. But if I can bring him back… If I can see him, once, even just once—to tell him I’m sorry—I’d burn the world.” Nilo coughed beside me. “And that’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Burning it piece by piece. One life at a time.” She stared at him. “It’s the only way. The only path to Veyrith. He’s the underworld god. He holds the gates. And he doesn't listen to prayers. Only blood. If I can get his attention, he'll agree to release one soul to me.”

He was the guardian of the Gate of Purgatory before Bellious took over. “Three months.” He says placing his hand on her belly. I smile at them both. Sofia is to be the next Moon Goddess, but she still isn’t ready. “How about you, Dahlia? How long do you have left?” I ask her when Malachi sits next to her. These two didn’t have the best start. But that is a different story.

“The disturbance registered from the same quadrant where she was last held.” The air grew heavy — a palpable tension pressing against every word. Veyra turned from the railing, her cloak whispering against the floor. “You’re suggesting that a human just breached the boundary between mortal and immortal realms?” Myr bowed his head slightly. “Not merely human, Councilor. She carries the binding mark. That makes her Soulbound.” A low murmur rippled through the Council — disbelief mingled with a fear none of them wanted to name. “The Soulbound line was erased ages ago,” Soreth said, his tone dangerously quiet. “The last bearer was purged at the dawn of the Reaper Wars.”

“How can we use that to our advantage?” “It will be difficult,” another of the Souled, a large man she thought she’d heard someone calling Lou earlier, said. He was even more imposing a character than Adrian, and that was saying something. With a bald head and one small hoop earring, he had a face that also looked like it had been chiseled out of rock, except for the pock mark scars. “Even if they do not wish to help that woman, they will not fold so easily.” Jo almost asked what the point in having that information was, but she didn’t. They might tell her other things, things she might actually find useful.

After all, now that they had passed on in peace, they wouldn’t end up turning into evil spirits… Either way, now that they were gone, Gerald drew the Astrabyss Sword before starting to mutter some odd incantations… The spell Gerald was chanting was known as Soul Eater, and casting it enabled him to completely exterminate villainous spirits. As Gerald had earlier said, any spirits caught within the punishing spell wouldn’t be able to be reincarnated… While Gerald rarely used the spell, he knew he had to use it on the dead Soul Hunters. After all, they deserved this punishment, and Gerald wasn’t about to let them die in peace and escape judgment.

It questioned back. "I'm the one asking the questions around here." I stated. The soul laughed at me. "And what made me obliged to answer you? You are nothing." He replied. I knew that this was an indirect challenge to my status. I immediately pulled out the mirror in my bag pack and said the words: "Hell summonte hell arosente death take never returnt." A huge red demon with the body of a muscular and furry beast and the head and neck of a python emerged from the ground.

Cristian thought that he would go crazy when he saw the inert body of his partner on the floor covered in blood. His body vibrated so painfully that the wolf stepped outside. Tearing at his clothes on the way he ran in the direction of the man who had hurt his wife, his soul mate, his half, the person he had waited so long for. The anger, the pain, the hatred; A mixture of overwhelmed feelings clouded all sanity, leading him into the abyss of revenge.

ADIRA'S POV “Oh my god,” I whispered, the book slipping from my numb fingers and hitting the table with a dull thud. But even then, my hands did not leave the pages. There, sketched in fading charcoal, was a symbol. A crescent moon entwined with a jagged blade. Underneath the sketch, the text read: “The Masquerade does not hunt the soul for the sins of the present but for the debt of the Origin. They are the Hounds of the First Gate, sent only when a soul that was meant to be extinguished for the safety of the world continues to flicker,” I read.

“Clarissa…” The voice didn't sound masculine nor feminine. It also didn't feel like it was near or far. It wrapped around me like a shroud, its weight sinking into my skin. Jasmine growled low, pressing her body against my leg. I turned my face toward the sound though I had no eyes to meet it with. “Who are you?” “I am Ulmath,” the voice answered. “Spirit of grief. I keep memories and weave sorrow. You have come to me, and so you must pay the price.”

They crash into our forces like a storm breaking a dam. At their head is Keith. His hybrid form gleams silver-white under the moon, every line of him lethal and controlled. The night shudders with noise—steel ringing, shouts tearing the air, the sharp, breathy snarls of wolves. I taste smoke and cold iron as I run, boots skidding on frost-slick stone. The moon hangs low, a pale witness, and its light paints the battlefield in silver and shadow. I am Elira, last of my line, and I am tired of losing ground.