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Chapter 8: Echoes of Guilt
Last Updated:
2025-01-19 19:48:51
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My mother stiffened, her fingers tightening around the edge of my bed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wooden frame, her body visibly tensing. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice brittle as dry leaves. Her eyes darted toward Savienne, searching for something, anything, that might soften the blow of what she had just heard. “We can’t just—”“What do you mean, Savienne?” My father’s voice thundered over hers, cutting through the tense air like a blade. He stepped forward, his towering frame dominating the small hospital room. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and expect us to just accept it!” His voice cracked with fury, but there was something else—something raw—lurking beneath the surface. Fear?Savienne didn’t flinch. She turned to face him fully, her silver hair catching the harsh fluorescent light. Her steely gaze bore into his, unyielding. “She’s been marked,” she said, her tone sharp and matter-o
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“Therefore, we can conclude that Harold and Eli are our grandparents,” Henry declared, his voice steady yet laden with a gravity that resonated through the room like the toll of a distant bell.The room fell into a stunned silence. It was the kind of silence that seemed to expand, pressing against the walls, heavy with the weight of the revelation. I exchanged a glance with Allyson, her brow furrowed in concern, a mirror to the apprehension churning in my chest.Helix shifted uneasily, breaking the stillness with a cough. “By the way,” he ventured, his voice slicing through the tension like a dull knife, “where’s Master?”Allyson straightened in her chair, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her voice was taut with worry. “She’s with the Red Foxes,” she replied, “but... I haven’t heard from her yet.”Henry’s words lingered in the air, casting long shadows over the afternoon. Conversation waned, the heavy Victorian walls of the house seeming to absorb our unease. Its khaki
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A resigned sigh escaped my lips as I sank into the comforting softness of my bed. The weight of the day pressed down on me, heavier than the exhaustion I should have felt from school. For most students, life followed a predictable rhythm: home, school, maybe a club, then back home. But not for me. My path diverged sharply.Every day after school, my siblings and I trudged to the old temple on the outskirts of town for training that felt like walking a tightrope between life and death. Our master, a strict yet mysterious martial artist, shaped each lesson to our limits—and sometimes beyond. Each strike, each fall, was meant to make us stronger. To prepare us for what was out there."I won’t let that happen again," I whispered to the ceiling, my fists clenched as Allyson’s glowing eyes burned in my memory. The words tasted bitter, like a promise I couldn't break. My chest tightened as the memory of that terrible day clawed its way into my mind—Allyson’s rage, the bullies’ screams, and th
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A tattoo—small but intricate—etched just below my skin. The infinity symbol, its delicate lines looping and intertwining seamlessly, radiated a sense of endless continuity. It was beautiful but haunting. A chill ran down my spine as I lightly traced the design with my fingers. My skin tingled at the touch, as if the mark carried some latent energy.“Why do I have the same tattoo as the young boy’s mom?” I whispered under my breath. My voice sounded foreign, trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. Gently, I pressed the area around the mark, hoping for some kind of answer, but all I got was silence and the faint hum of the morning. Anxiety bubbled inside me. Was this some bizarre coincidence, or was there something more sinister at play? The memory of the boy’s mother flashed through my mind. Her smile had been kind, yet there was something about her presence that had lingered, like a shadow that refused to fade.The sound of my door slamming open shattered my thoughts.“Anne!” my yo
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The man’s words echoed in my mind as he dragged me forward, his grip cruel and unyielding. The pain in my scalp was a relentless, burning ache, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony radiating from the bite on my neck. Blood trickled down in a warm, sticky line, and my breaths came in ragged gasps, shallow and uneven.“She is here! Harold’s granddaughter!” he bellowed, his voice deep and rough, carrying across the village like a storm warning.The villagers gathered quickly, their fiery red hair glowing like embers under the dying light of the setting sun. Their faces blurred as tears pricked my eyes, but the intensity of their gazes was impossible to miss. The fox-like tilt of their eyes gleamed with an eerie crimson light, and their expressions ranged from contemptuous sneers to cold, calculating stares.“She reeks of them! Kill her!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd, sharp and venomous.I wanted to speak, to beg for mercy, but the words caught in my throat, bloc
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Anne and the Hidden world Chapter 10: Through the Veil
“Therefore, we can conclude that Harold and Eli are our grandparents,” Henry declared, his voice steady yet laden with a gravity that resonated through the room like the toll of a distant bell.The room fell into a stunned silence. It was the kind of silence that seemed to expand, pressing against the walls, heavy with the weight of the revelation. I exchanged a glance with Allyson, her brow furrowed in concern, a mirror to the apprehension churning in my chest.Helix shifted uneasily, breaking the stillness with a cough. “By the way,” he ventured, his voice slicing through the tension like a dull knife, “where’s Master?”Allyson straightened in her chair, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her voice was taut with worry. “She’s with the Red Foxes,” she replied, “but... I haven’t heard from her yet.”Henry’s words lingered in the air, casting long shadows over the afternoon. Conversation waned, the heavy Victorian walls of the house seeming to absorb our unease. Its khaki
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My mother stiffened, her fingers tightening around the edge of my bed. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wooden frame, her body visibly tensing. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice brittle as dry leaves. Her eyes darted toward Savienne, searching for something, anything, that might soften the blow of what she had just heard. “We can’t just—”“What do you mean, Savienne?” My father’s voice thundered over hers, cutting through the tense air like a blade. He stepped forward, his towering frame dominating the small hospital room. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and expect us to just accept it!” His voice cracked with fury, but there was something else—something raw—lurking beneath the surface. Fear?Savienne didn’t flinch. She turned to face him fully, her silver hair catching the harsh fluorescent light. Her steely gaze bore into his, unyielding. “She’s been marked,” she said, her tone sharp and matter-o
Anne and the Hidden world Chapter 8: Echoes of Guilt
The darkness pressed in like a suffocating shroud, wrapping around me with an almost tangible weight. Each step forward felt like wading through thick, invisible sludge. My legs trembled, threatening to give way as the void stretched endlessly in every direction. My breath came in ragged gasps, loud in the oppressive silence, my heartbeat a frantic drumbeat echoing in my ears.I tried to call out, but my voice faltered, strangled by some unseen force. A choking panic bubbled in my throat, clawing to get out. That’s when the voice came. “It’s all your fault!” The words hit me like a blade to the chest, sharp and cold. I froze, spinning around wildly. My eyes darted through the inky blackness, desperate to find the source. “Who’s there?” I managed to croak, my voice barely audible. Silence. Then, the voice erupted again, harsher, angrier. “We know you called them! That’s why we died, you hypocrite!” It was Leo. His voice was unmistakable, and suddenly, he was there—standing befor
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The moment I saw the three familiar figures descending like apparitions from the sky, I froze. It felt like the world around me came to a standstill. The blood-soaked battlefield, the chaos of the burning village—all of it blurred as I focused on them. My siblings. "Where did you come from?" I asked, my voice shaking with a mixture of disbelief and relief. Allyson, her snow-white hair glinting faintly in the moonlight, surveyed the carnage. Her sharp, calculating gaze missed nothing. "Well..." she began, clearly unsettled by the destruction. "We’ll talk about that later." "We were just training when—bam!—a blinding light, and here we are," Helix chimed in, his eyes darting between our parents, the wolves, and me. His tone was casual, but his body was tense, ready for action. "So, what’s this?" Henry stepped forward, his movements precise and deliberate, as always. "We’ve been tracking you ever since you disappeared almost two months ago," he explained. His piercing gaze shifted to
Anne and the Hidden world Chapter 6: Lessons in the Light
Several weeks had passed since my ordeal ended. Life in the village had found a fragile rhythm, though mistrust still lingered like a shadow. The villagers' wary acceptance of my master and me was tenuous at best. Each day, Red escorted me to a hidden spot deep within the forest, where the children gathered for lessons. It wasn’t much—a clearing surrounded by towering trees that formed a natural barrier—but it was ours. The sun rose sluggishly, its soft golden light bathing the makeshift classroom in warmth, as if reluctant to disturb the peace.The children were already waiting, some eager, others simply present because of their loyalty to Red. One girl, small and wide-eyed, raised her hand, her innocent curiosity piercing through the silence. "What is a dream, Anne?" she asked, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the rustle of leaves.I knelt beside her, meeting her gaze. It was hard to answer a question like that, knowing the world they faced. Not all the children trusted m
Anne and the Hidden world Chapter 5: Cracks in the Cycle
Weeks had passed since my capture, each day merging into an agonizing blur. Seth’s relentless torment became a grim routine, his fury like an unquenchable fire. His every action spoke of vengeance, each cruel act fuelled by a pain that had long since consumed him. Rumors whispered through the village that he had lost his family to werewolves. The tragedy had hollowed him out, leaving only hatred to fill the void. His anguish had twisted into something monstrous, something that sought to share its misery with others.“I won’t kill you yet,” Seth hissed, his grin sharp and cruel. He leaned close, his breath hot against my face. Moments before, he’d nearly drowned me, holding my head underwater until darkness edged my vision. My body convulsed with exhaustion, water streaming from my lips as I gasped for air.Instead of giving him the satisfaction of my fear, I spat blood in his face. The defiance lit a fire in his eyes. His hand came down hard, slapping me with enough force to split my l
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The man’s words echoed in my mind as he dragged me forward, his grip cruel and unyielding. The pain in my scalp was a relentless, burning ache, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony radiating from the bite on my neck. Blood trickled down in a warm, sticky line, and my breaths came in ragged gasps, shallow and uneven.“She is here! Harold’s granddaughter!” he bellowed, his voice deep and rough, carrying across the village like a storm warning.The villagers gathered quickly, their fiery red hair glowing like embers under the dying light of the setting sun. Their faces blurred as tears pricked my eyes, but the intensity of their gazes was impossible to miss. The fox-like tilt of their eyes gleamed with an eerie crimson light, and their expressions ranged from contemptuous sneers to cold, calculating stares.“She reeks of them! Kill her!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd, sharp and venomous.I wanted to speak, to beg for mercy, but the words caught in my throat, bloc
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After a brief scolding from my teacher, I was sent to assist the librarian. The library was a sanctuary of towering shelves and soft whispers, its grandeur unexpectedly breathtaking. The scent of aged books and polished wood wrapped around me like a comforting cloak.Wandering through the aisles, I stumbled upon a dimly lit corner that exuded an eerie presence. A single book stood out—its cover blank and edges charred.Curious, I picked it up. "Weird," I muttered, flipping through its brittle pages. My blood ran cold when I saw my name inscribed on the last page.Before I could react, a sharp pain shot through my finger. A single drop of blood fell onto the page, and the air around me shifted.The ground trembled, the shelves rattling violently. A howling wind filled the room as the book glowed in my hands, its light blinding.I tried to close it, but my hands wouldn’t obey. The light grew brighter, enveloping me in its searing embrace. My thoughts scattered, panic surging as I felt my
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A tattoo—small but intricate—etched just below my skin. The infinity symbol, its delicate lines looping and intertwining seamlessly, radiated a sense of endless continuity. It was beautiful but haunting. A chill ran down my spine as I lightly traced the design with my fingers. My skin tingled at the touch, as if the mark carried some latent energy.“Why do I have the same tattoo as the young boy’s mom?” I whispered under my breath. My voice sounded foreign, trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. Gently, I pressed the area around the mark, hoping for some kind of answer, but all I got was silence and the faint hum of the morning. Anxiety bubbled inside me. Was this some bizarre coincidence, or was there something more sinister at play? The memory of the boy’s mother flashed through my mind. Her smile had been kind, yet there was something about her presence that had lingered, like a shadow that refused to fade.The sound of my door slamming open shattered my thoughts.“Anne!” my yo
