Words To Candle In The Wind Novels & Stories

How are we the ones you left behind, Celeste ? I just kept crying until I felt the strong wind blowing. Does Celeste make fun of me? Why would it blow? I lit the three candles again because they died because of the wind. When I lit it I was still stunned and nothing entered my brain that anything except what happened when we found out that Celeste was already losing her life. FLASHBACK ...

Those fiv⁠e words und⁠id me more than any⁠ declaration eve‍r could. Wh⁠en s‌he left th‍e r‍oom, I leane‍d ba⁠ck and looke‍d toward‍ the windo‌w again. Th‌e s‌torm had‍ passed,‌ but its scent stil⁠l lingered in the ai⁠r — fresh, electri‌c, alive.

“You’re a lucky one. Someone will make very good use of that fire one day.” Pelin shot upright, heat rushing to her face. “W-what does that even mean?” Pareia only winked, her hips swaying lazily as she turned away, swagging with deliberate irritation. “You will figure it out, I’m sure” she said light hearted.I cleared my throat and smiled as I gave Pelin a subtle side glance, “Ehmn, Light. The answer is light. A candle flies without wings. It cries and melts without having eyes. And wherever a candle goes, it brings light and eliminates the darkness.”

If he had another chance, he'd choose a peaceful life with me. He didn't want children, didn't care about continuing the family name. He just wanted me. I read his letter wearing my glasses. When I finished, I smiled faintly—and tossed it into the fire. Kristen was grown now. And I was old. The memories were already fading, like soft light through fog. Perhaps it was best to let the past go where it belonged—with the wind.

The words, though they made no meaning to me, drew my ears in to listen as if I was supposed to somehow relate to the rhythm. The air became still for a second and after a few minutes the wind picked up speed. The wind came on and off and on and off and it began to have a beat that was making sense. Howls sounded from afar but it was not that of wolves but still that of the intense breeze blowing. The candles began to flicker out one by one and it was not until all were out and we were plunged into darkness did I notice Conrad transmute into a wolf and began growling at something far off in the bush.

Montessa’s eyes reflected the sparks coming off his skin. “Don’t hold back, baby,” she said. “Let’s burn this place to the ground.” She put her hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The wind started around them, blowing candy and engine oil and baby food off the shelves. The wind fanned Lu’s flames, and they became higher and higher. “Burn,” she whispered, and the building ignited. Deadly Hanukkah candles. The most exquisite of joys in the most horrible of circumstances. “Burn,” she repeated and used her hand to direct Lu’s flames toward the bodies on the ground. The clerk seared and sizzled. Flames danced in his open mouth, in his throat. She saw firestorms in his eye sockets.

Don't force erase traces I erased it more and more More and more, come back Hope everything will be fine Foliage, convey the message of my heart. Wind, take fly my taste. ~ Alisy a Cantara

Then he bit down on my bottom lip, and I was gone. My soul flickered, a candle’s flame in the wind. It was alone, atop a dark, shrouded hill, and then, in the distance, a beacon was lit. The flames joined, and they twined together, dancing as the stars came alive above us. Then the hill hollowed out, and, together, we were falling.

He informed me quietly as he crouched beside the bomb and picked it up carefully while cradling the brown box in his left hand. “What do you mean by ‘I am going to get myself killed? I didn’t do a damn thing, I just want to go on my damn way, please.” I pressed on desperately, my heart thumping hard against my ribs, it was getting harder to get words out my mouth as the second passed.

The phrase echoed deep inside me, striking a place I thought long dead. I looked at them—these wolves who had been cast aside, hunted, broken, forgotten. Every scar, every hollow stare, was a story of survival. The air seemed to stir, whispering faintly through the trees. It wasn’t divine. It was older than gods. "Duskwind." The word slipped from my tongue before I could think. Cassian frowned. "What?" "Duskwind," I repeated, louder. "The wind that carries dusk into night. The last breath before darkness, and the first before dawn. That’s what we are."