Unseen Immortal Of Three Hundred Years Novels & Stories

From behind me, I hear the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat. “Doing that would be a foolish decision, Sinful,” they say. I freeze, the voice unfamiliar, the accent otherworldly. Time seems momentarily surprised that he is seeing whoever stands behind me. “I’m sure the Moon wouldn’t appreciate you killing one of its own.” I whirl around. An immortal stands there, hands tucked neatly behind their back. I know it’s immortal simply based upon looks alone. No mortal looks like that. Which immortal exactly, I’m unsure. All I know is I’m staring back at eyes so glacial blue, they almost melt into the white of his irises.

That was around May last year. I quietly followed Grandfather. We approached the hut and no sooner had we gotten to the door that was surrounded by creeping plants than it opened. My mind is full of anticipation and I gulped. A normal immortal appeared before me. I frowned because this was not the magician I was used to. As far as I remember, the sorcerers I've met are all old. But the one in front of me now seems to be only in his thirties. He looks young and...utterly handsome.

That was all they could describe the existence of a young immortal man named Alec Berthold. "Hmm..." Now they heard the young man muttering softly, listening to what they just said, staring intently at them with a gaze that could not be translated into as the meaning of the strange immortal young man’s gaze. They did not say anything, and all they did was try to turn their attention away from the scary memory that happened three days ago. "I guess I was not clear enough to tell you, eh?"

It wouldn’t want the little boy to notice what was happening around the world at this very moment. ________________________________ In a faraway land that was filled with the essence of death and suffering, a thin imposing man was seated upon a throne. His frame was bony and from within the large mantle he donned was nothing but a skeletal figure of a mortal long shredded his temporary husk and replaced it with an immortal shell. Undying and eternal. “The unknown power comes from the continent of Qeeton, my liege. Should we send wraiths to observe the source?” a mighty general kneeled in front of her emperor.

She pressed her forehead to mine and whispered words I didn't understand at first. It was a ritual called 'The Soul Forge'. A ritual that could transfer immortality from one person to another. I felt it the moment it happened. Warmth flooded my body, burning away the poison, healing the wound. Power settled into my bones—ancient, terrible, eternal power. I gasped, my eyes flying open. "What did you do?" "I saved you," Annitore whispered. "You're immortal now, Owaine. Nothing can kill you." "No—you can't—" I grabbed her shoulders. "You have to take it back. I can't—"

Not a mark on me. I sat there for hours, staring at the horizon — a wasteland of melted earth and twisted steel. The sun rose again, as if mocking me for surviving what should have ended everything. My reflection in the glass wasn’t human anymore; my eyes had changed. There was something eternal behind them — not divine, not demonic — just… unending. That was the day I knew for certain — I would never die. And whatever task that voice promised me… it was gone. Centuries passed. I kept living, losing, searching.

Blade shrugged but that wasn't his business at the moment. Mr. Williams annoyed by his words, raised his stick and hit Blade on the head, "What's even strange is how a human who got the immortal punishment seduced s fairy and made her do unimaginable things. Maybe I should have just made your face ugly as your punishment then" Mr. Williams glared at Blade who shrugged.

Although he’d never ventured within, he’d overheard the servants within his household speaking of it. He stood in the snow, head shaking in slight disbelief. How could such a heavenly smell be coming from such a place? Did he dare enter that place of temptation? He may have been immortal but he was certainly not immune to the…bodily pleasures a woman could provide. He was no monk. It had been many years since he had sought out physical pleasure. It had never ended well for either party involved. It was not worth the risk of loosing control and murdering the unfortunate girl that had found her way into this bed. That had happened more than he cared to admit.

However, he replied in a detached tone, "Emma has made a wish, and I have to fulfill it." I begged him, "My mom's dying. Please just come back to see her one last time…" He hung up on me, utterly unfeeling. "You're using that lame excuse? There's a limit to being jealous. Do you really see me as some kind of servant you can just call up or send away whenever you feel like it? Just because you played the hero once doesn't mean you get to boss me around. "I can't stand the sight of your face. It makes me want to hurl every time I see it."

Johan piped up. Harlow nod at Karina, and smiled at Johan. An immortal never truly dies, unless their killer knew what to do to make sure they stay die. They would reborn again each time, but that meant their mates would have to wait until they were of age.