Stigma Of The Wind Novels & Stories

I thought those five years in the countryside would make you obedient and well-behaved, but you're still so shameless! "Sylvie, you truly disappoint me!" Serena held her umbrella and stood beside him with red-rimmed eyes, quietly trying to convince him. "What did I do wrong, Seth? Please don't scold her. She didn't do it on purpose…" A passerby nearby heard his words and shot me a look of disdain. Everyone hated me. I collapsed onto the ground, staring at my mother's tomb a few meters ahead. I opened my mouth, ready to explain. Before I could even speak, a dull pain shot through my chest.

She could feel the worms wriggling in her heart, the squirming of the worms made her stomach queasy. However, her attention was suddenly diverted as a gust of cold wind swept across her face, and blew her long hair. The gust of wind carried voices whispering in her ear, not the whispers of the surrounding leaves, but other whispers that she could understand. Leah looked left and right, it seemed that no one felt the gust of wind and whispers except for her. Even Mia and Grace who were standing so close to her didn't feel what she felt. The whisper called her name, she was sure. Not the sound of the wind, or the voices in her head, someone called her name

Tempest asked, the temperature in the room dropping slightly, but enough to notice. "She's weak. Up here," Ghost said, tapping his left temple. Tempest raised her eyebrows at him "You think so?" She asked him. Ghost nodded, as did Shade. "Because her hands shake under pressure? Because she fumbles while chanting 'I can do it. I can fix' in her head like she's trying to brainwash herself? You have yet to realise that what you've done here hasn't accomplished your goals," She said, pausing to take in their confused expressions.

She's just an insecure human; she doesn't deserve Windriel's affection if she's this kind of b*tch. Windriel might not look like he cares about his clan members, but I know he is like Winston and the other Lycans, who take priority over their race's lives. She should know that love is not enough for her to commit this kind of crime—a crime she committed just because she's insecure.

Felix meant it as a statement, not a question, but he seemed to not believe what he was hearing. “I am. You’re right that I’m a walking disaster. I’m cursed.” “We’re all cursed,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” He pointed at his Stigma. “At least you don’t have this.” I knew he was right, and I felt embarrassed at how narcissistic I was. Here I was telling this boy how my life was so terrible when he was the one who grew up in a horrifying environment in the slums. He had been branded with the Stigma, and most werewolves, disliked him for that fact alone.

You'd better treat Whitney right, cherish her with everything you've got, or else, I'll be coming for you. [Don't forget her daily warm milk since her stomach's always been touchy. Take her to Icelandia for those Northern Lights she's never stopped dreaming about. [She despises rainy days, and cilantro? It's a no-go; she's allergic. Remember, she's scared of the dark, so never let her walk home alone at night.] Tucked at the end was a smaller sentence, meant only for her eyes. [Whitney, if I'm not treating you right ten years down the line, walk away, and never look back.]

After I was reborn, I burned every photo I had with Natalie Landers and tore up the three years' worth of love letters Kristen Rhodes had written me. In my last life, I'd been nothing but a joke caught between those two women. Natalie swore she loved me, but the moment I gave up my study-abroad spot for her, she left the country with Freddy Palmer. Before she left, she wrote me a letter, saying, "He needs me more than you do." I spent three months falling apart. Kristen brought me dinner every night and told me, "I've waited eight years for you." Once we were together, she came home on time every evening and never so much as looked at another man. I thought I'd finally bet on the right

"No, Rose. Don't be weak. Your mother needs that money. Let's go to that damn Antonio and beg him. If necessary, I will wet my crotch, be sexy, and moan loudly until he can't resist letting me go." However, Rose's hesitant heart couldn't make her go meet Antonio just like that. There was a wounded sense of self-respect, a glimmer of doubt, and a reluctant piece of her heart. She looked up at the sky and felt the breeze blowing, drier than usual. The hot air hitting her body felt suffocating. Maybe it was because she still hadn't fully let go of her pride. It was when feelings of low self-esteem and disgust settled in the wrong places, even though Rose needed the money. Maybe becoming the win

I was experiencing chills just looking at him. "Let me introduce, Mr. Axel Windstorm, CEO and owner of the Windstorm Conglomerate and the Lord of Windstorm Hall," the driver informed with his tone filled with pride. Mr. Windstorm pressed a button on his wheelchair and the wheels rolled towards us. I was stiff on the spot, but George, my savior, poked my ribs, urging me forward to meet him half-way. I did, hesitantly at first because I felt ashamed of myself for actually judging the man before I even met him. Again, my regret for not Googling him beforehand turned two-fold. Ugh.

Carrola immediately rounded up the boys to heal them while Rissiya followed the Minister to the biggest windmill. “Artie,” Rissiya called. “Those things’ presence in this part of the kingdom is really strange. Did you get anything?” The Minister shook his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, no. I didn’t manage to get anything out of them.” Rissiya frowned, realizing what that means. “Artie… That means—” The Minister pursed his lips and a slight irritation crossed his face. “Yes. Someone did this.” Wind is a part of nature, along with the creatures living in it. Anything will have its stories, and the wind will always be pure. Thus, it was strange that the Fire Drakes could reach this place withou