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supernatural

Phantom Wayfarers

Sebastian’s life is turned upside down when he is unexpectedly thrust into the dangerous and unpredictable world of the Realm Walkers. As he navigates this new reality, he must face deadly challenges, forge uneasy alliances, and confront secrets that could change everything he knows about himself and the realms around him. With every choice carrying high stakes, Sebastian discovers that surviving this world means more than just strength—it requires courage, wit, and the resilience to overcome the darkest twists of fate. Note that the build up of the first few chapters may seem slow. Chapters per week 2-3 might increase to 5-7 Just lacking motivation ......... Sebastian pushed himself upright, though it felt as if the air itself had turned to tar around him. His thoughts drifted through a dense, suffocating fog that weighed more than his own limbs. Every breath was an effort. Every movement felt resisted by something unseen—something that clung to him without leaving a single bruise or mark to prove it existed. There was no chain. No wound. No logical reason for the heaviness sinking into his bones. And yet it was there. Relentless. He staggered toward the mirror standing quietly before him—too quietly, as if it had been waiting. A shard of memory flickered at the back of his mind, but every attempt to grasp it made the fog thicken, swallowing the thought before it could form. When he finally faced the glass, he froze. His reflection was… wrong. The face was his, yet the expression wasn’t. A smile threatened at the corners of his mouth—not his smile, but something using it. The eyes blinked half a second too late. And the longer he stared, the more the reflection seemed to grow aware of him, as though it had just woken up. A crawling cold travelled up his spine. “What… are you?” he whispered. His reflection tilted its head first. A smile still played across its lips—thin, deliberate, and wrong. There was no warmth in it. No flicker of anything human. It was a cold curve of the mouth, carved with the kind of precision that suggested practice rather than emotion. The eyes above it didn’t match the expression; they remained distant, unfocused, as though gazing at something beyond him trying but also failing to recall. Then its gaze focused on him It then spoke: “The scavenger of the Sovereign’s lost soul, A legacy bound to us… for the world to behold.”
ShamelessDreamer · 21k Views

Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Neva and Rhett—two young souls—find their heartstrings woven in love. But just as passion and peace begin to bloom, fate intervenes. Bleak, haunting circumstances scatter blades across their romance, threatening to tear them apart. Ishmael—a man with a heart of thorns—yearns to mend the wound of losing Neva. And in the end, rays of love and joy filter through the clouds of horror that darken his world—as Neva appears before him once more. Twisted fate entangles them all, revealing the Game of Sphere, as misery scorches their souls. A concealed life beyond turns its pages—one after another—gathering sin and virtue, tragedy and fortune, strength and frailty, creation, love... and hate. Illusion is where we live—in the garden of Eden before the fall of man. Illusion is serenity—an evermore sanguine of love. The vision of paradise in the New Earth sows hope deep in the soul. The delusory pleasures of this world ignite the flames that burn in oceans of fire. Illusive Eden is rapture. Illusive Eden is tragedy. The fall of man—even now bleeds red. The whisper whirls the dawn of a man—he who pretends to be the hero. --- The girl who once vowed to be his forever Now forbids him to ever appear. She refuses to recognize him, Disregarding all he ever was. He vows to protect her. Yet he is the terrifying truth she prays is a lie. He trips her, rips her apart— He's the living tragedy looming over her life. He once was her Elayne, now her hiraeth. He is the villain—pretending to be the hero. --- The Lord is the way— Steady through the wilderness. The King is the truth— Burning through the lies. The Father is the life— Breathing spirit into dust. She kneels before the Ruler, The God who shaped galaxies— He has called her a poet. Her tongue shall be anointed. Her poetry shall be the rivers of His word. She will scatter seeds in broken fields, And He will send the sun. He will send the rain. He will draw the roots down deep. He yields to the Ruler, The God of blazing holiness— He has called him a soldier. His fists shall be unclenched. The sword of the Spirit rests in his grip. He will shield the sower of the seeds, As storms rise against the harvest. His strength will be not his own, But drawn from the marrow of grace. This faith shall shake the mountains, For He has conquered the filth of the flesh. This flame will cleanse the shadows. For He has defeated the darkness. This love shall live on for eternity, For He has overcome the mortal world.
NehaPriaa · 292.5k Views