A Jack Frost x OC story
Lorelai Azrael, known by all as the Grim Reaper is the spirit of death. She carries the suffering to a place of joy and pleasure. But since humans are selfish and hate to be left alone, they curse her name. Even the other spi...
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Me realizing that I actually might finish this dang book in 50 parts like:
Anyways here's a new chapter :)
After a while which could have been ten minutes or ten hours (Hecate had always found it hard to keep track of time when it was shifting around all the time), they popped back out of the shadows and into the edge of a clearing where the sky was painted with color by the starting sunrise. The three ravens sat upon branches and cawed quietly to tell her that her sisters were close.
In the clearing sat a large house which looked abandoned and despite it's great size, felt unimpressive. Hecate felt for some reason though that it had once been grand and full of joy and beauty and that it had long been asleep; like the castle in sleeping beauty.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; earth, pine, rain and the slight scent of the ocean which came on the breeze. With her ears she heard the slight rustle of the leaves, the sounds of forest creatures around her, the faintest babbling of a stream and underneath it all; her own breath and heartbeat.
She had this uncanny ability to sense..... things around her; her mother's footsteps pacing in the hall, who was standing behind her before she'd turned to look, the pain which came from below Elysium, the grief that seemed to seep from the walls, the emotions of those around her. To her it felt almost like an invisible person standing behind her, pointing out things she should notice that others didn't, whispering in her ear about other people's intentions.
It only came out sometimes, mainly when she was focused, or when others around her were high-strung. She had no name for it so she just called it her friend.
This place felt peaceful, but frozen in time. If she concentrated hard enough, she swore that she'd hear laughter in the wind. This feeling seemed to emanate from the house, as though it was full to bursting with glimpses of the past. However inside the house, she only sensed three things; memories of joy and sorrow, evil and her sisters.
"Alright, come on guys," she whispered to the ravens. But they didn't budge, only crouched on their perches, ready to fly away from this place.
"Come on!" she urged them but all she got was a nervous caw from Asteria. She sighed.
"Fine, go get Momma, I'll go get them by myself," she decided, turning her back on the birds and heading for the house. She gripped the hilt of her saber. She wished that she still had that gladi-whatever it's called that she'd stolen from the castle's training room, but her mother had confiscated it when she'd discovered that she'd stolen it.
Because of that, all she had was a couple of daggers and knives she'd managed to hide underneath her skirt, her saber and a stick that she'd whittled into a spear during the ride in the sleigh. Plus a spoon but she doubted that would help much. She would definitely not be tall enough to gouge out Pitch Black's eyes
