Historias de Scarredsouls

The Unravelling Warriors In a world where silence carries secrets and ruins remember blood, the forgotten will rise. When the fragile balance of ancient elements is disturbed, a reluctant warrior named Nishad finds himself entangled in a destiny written in scars, swords, and silence. Haunted by a past he cannot change and guided by a priest with golden eyes, Nishad must awaken the dormant energy within him-the Kundalini. But such power comes at a price. Beside him walks Saira, a fierce researcher scarred by loss, and Sorin, a blade-wielder whose calm masks a storm. Together, they journey across sacred temples, crumbling cities, and cursed forests in search of legendary jewels and lost truths. At the heart of it all lies a single truth-five ancient warriors must rise again. But not all battles are fought with steel. Some lie buried in the soul. As demonic forces stir and elemental guardians test their resolve, the line between prophecy and punishment begins to blur. In this clash of myth and memory, will Nishad stand tall-or unravel?

He's rich and perfect. Everything I swore to run away from, And God, I tried. The second I met him I ran as far as my skinny legs carried me. I expected him to realise I'm not worth the trouble and give up. Leave me alone,Just as it has always been. But... He didn't run. He's determined to have me. Calls me his chance at salvation. How could I be anyone's salvation when I was so far from pure? I'm tainted and damaged. He calls me perfect. We have everything set out against us. His family hates me. He won't give up. I'll ruin him. I have nothing. I AM nothing.

Some stories refuse to end. This one refuses to let you leave. A genius. Three award-winning plays. A name that lit up marquees. Then her brother died on stage, and the words stopped coming. Her life became a locked room with no windows. Now she writes in blood. She whispers to ghosts. She is finishing a play that should never be performed, a forgotten tragedy never meant to be found. Her rival, who circled her flaws like a man circling a grave, sees only the masterpiece. He doesn't understand that the play isn't art. It's a summoning. And the entity it's calling doesn't want applause. It wants sacrifice. The play is almost finished. So is she. The only question left is whether she writes the final line, or the noose does.