Novel & Cerita Story Of Death

But he knew nothing about my history. My dad was of the royal bloodline. Whose rule ended hundreds of years ago when a wolf caused havoc in the world. The Prophesy as they call it. When they knew very little about it. My grandmother used to tell me a very old love story. And I used to listen to her like an excited child. The story was passed onto us by our forefathers. The story which few like me belived was true. The story of love between the god of death , Than and the goddess of moon, Selene.

The news of the Death lords death went around like a wildfire, breaking the nerve of everyone in Narlands. It was an unforeseen circumstances as it has never ever happened in the history of Narlands for a Death lord to die at a young age and without a next in line. The news was shocking, while most people believe it to be false, most cried and prepared for their fate as they knew the enemy would use this as the perfect opportunity to strike them, making sure to destroy Narlands.

**Author's Note: Stranger than Murder is being updated weekly as well. Take a moment to check out that story it has holiday themed chapters as well. I hope you like it. Please coment and vote on what you enjoy the most from My Death Contract as well as Stranger than Murder. Happy New Year's! \(*^*)/ **

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

I know that magic is just an illusion, a trick. Dusting my clothes, I made my way toward my team. They had now assembled themselves in one place, their eyes still holding surprise, and I could guess that they were waiting for me to explain. The crowds were as silent as a graveyard. They weren't making any of their stupid noises, and I am sure they were still trying to recover from the shock of seeing me again. That made me remember a story in the Bible that our Sunday school teacher told us about. It was the story of a man named Lazarus who was resurrected from the dead. The only difference between us is that I have been dead for two months, or should I say suffering and wandering around an

“For I know you, a man of scream, seeking vengeance to the unwounded hands that never fed.” And the world had showered in blood, for if Death had a weather it would be this one. Benedict always thought the line was an exaggeration. His mother used to tell him stories about the Custodian. She had said to him once that Death had fallen for her when the Custodian had danced with her blade and made the sky, the sea, and the earth covered with blood.

[Time of Death: 11:22 AM] If I am asked about their love story. For me, they have the best and most touching story. Although, they didn’t even have a happy ending because of their early deaths, but at least I know and we all know that they proved how much they loved and treasured each other until the very end of their last breaths.

I always imagined death would be torturous. At least for me. Some werewolves were lucky to go in their sleep. When I was younger, Celeste would tell me stories about our people in the olden days who would choose to die in their wolf states. "But how would they know?" I would ask curiously. Because how did someone know they were going to die? Was there a big bright light in the horizon? Did our Creator give us a sign? In a vision or a dream perhaps?

"Stories? Experiences?" "Think about it," Whitmore said, warming to his subject with the enthusiasm of a professor who'd found an eager student. "Death is eternal, unchanging, always the same. But human lives? Human lives are chaos and choice, joy and suffering, love and loss. Every life is a story, and stories are the only currency that can surprise an immortal being."

Laila continues, nodding to me, “even if they didn’t tell you, it’s so strange that you don’t know. Everyone in my world knows this story – we hear it as a story in our cradles.” I sip at my coffee, quietly settling into my chair in anticipation of a good tale, and Anton likewise settles next to me. “Thousands of years ago,” Laila says, conjuring a pen and paper from thin air, “the God of Death and the Goddess of Life won a great victory against their father, the God of Darkness. They wrenched half of the planet away and made it their own Kingdom, the Underworld.”