Will You Remember Me For Centuries Novels & Stories

I confess, my voice both tremulous and resolute, "the essence of 'us' endures. We are going to make it through this the same way we made it through all those other times. Together." Our eyes lock, a vortex of emotions swirling in the depths, words barely brushing the surface of what we've become. "I will navigate this journey of remembrance alongside you, William," I vow, my voice carrying the weight of my unwavering determination, "step by step, memory by memory, until we resurrect what fate has stolen."

I said. "No. She will surely know if you do. I want you on the other side of the ocean before the next sunrise. I will keep myself blocked from her until then, but after that she will know. I will try to be selective with my memories, but it will be difficult. Don't make it more difficult." "But I can't wait one hundred years before I can see you again." "No, not one hundred years. Ninety-nine years before I can leave this place." "Ninety-nine years …"

Still precisely formulated for my chemistry by hands that didn't remember learning how. Would you ever come back to me, I thought, if you didn't remember you had ever been here? The Aether, as always, kept its own counsel.

He said hoarsely with a voice that contained anger. I nodded my head. “I'm sure that they already retained their memories just like ours. Since the Lord God won't do something unfair treatment. I'm sure that if we ever retained our memories back, it would also be the same with Patrick and Marva. However, those people who died in the past because of the war, don't need to retain their memories since they got their life back in this life, while those who were alive in that time—which are less than a hundred, will also continue to live until the end even if there would be any war that would happen in this life. Am I right, dear?”

“You’ll pay the price.” “Centuries?” My breath hitched. “What are you saying?” His eyes met mine at last, haunted, broken. “You remind me of the woman I lost centuries ago.” The floor seemed to vanish beneath me. My blood ran cold. “What are you?” I whispered.

"Albert? Fuck! Is that you! So it's through that you're already awake again after how many centuries…" I raise my eyebrow "of course I'm awake did I sleep? Why would I do that?" "We both know that I'm older than you. But as I can see you're much older than me because you forgot what you've done tsk… why are you here!" "Before I answered, tell me why I slept for centuries, maybe that was the reason why my memories were a bit foggy to me." "Seriously, you forgot the reason? Are you kidding me?" "Am I joking here, old man?"

“Part of me wants to cut them off again.” “Don’t.” “It would be a memento. Over the centuries, I’ve forgotten so many things. I don’t ever want to forget her. Or you. Or any of this.” I turned this over in my mind. “I understand. But if you’re going to remember this, then I propose we have experiences worth remembering.” ~

That was the lifetime before last. Phoenix wolves remembered everything. People romanticized immortality—imagined endless years, infinite wisdom, time to master every skill imaginable. They never considered the memories. Never considered what it meant to carry centuries of grief inside one soul. Every human, every mate, every friend, every child who had ever laughed in my presence. Every person I'd watched grow old. Every grave I'd stood beside. Every final goodbye. Nothing faded. Nothing blurred with time.

Hera's Curse One hundred thousand years I curse your kind Each century you will find One human woman, not your mate This curse is now your fate Tahr Alone. This should be easier after losing so many brides, but it's not. Each memory presses harder into my soul and I drown a bit deeper with each one. I can't even walk through the halls of my castle without remembering Meagan's sweet giggles. Meagan never lost her sense of humor even at her advanced age when death finally claimed her. I miss her laughter, her smile, her sense of humor and ability to brighten my life. It's only been six months but each wretched day feels like a lifetime of loneliness.

He told her the truth: That he had stayed not for crowns, not for thrones, but for memory. For the chance to remember her when all the world had forgotten how. He did not ask her to return. He did not ask for forgiveness. He asked only that, wherever she was, temple, forest, dream, legend, she know that she had not been replaced. Not by time. Not by history. Not by any love that came after. The candle breathed its last, a thread of smoke curling upward. Lucien folded the letter, pressing trembling fingers to its final line: “If you are still out there,