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    The Collector of Living Souls
    The Collector of Living Souls
    The Collector of Living Souls
    Ebook146 pages1 hour

    The Collector of Living Souls

    By willianinnovador

    ()

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    About this ebook

    In a world where stories are weapons of light, a group of storytellers must fight to save their world from being consumed by darkness.

    The Mageborn saga is an epic tale of good versus evil, love and loss, and the power of stories to change the world. The story follows a group of young mages who must learn to master their powers and unite to defeat a dark sorcerer who threatens to plunge their world into eternal darkness.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisherwillianinnovador
    Release dateMay 19, 2024
    ISBN9798224445530
    The Collector of Living Souls
    Author

    willianinnovador

    Passionate about reading and technological knowledge, the quest to improve people's lives and develop technological skills in every possible field of our lives.

    Read more from Willianinnovador

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      Book preview

      The Collector of Living Souls - willianinnovador

      The Collector of Living Souls

      INTRODUCTION

      In the realm of the macabre and the unsettling, there exists a figure shrouded in mystery and whispered tales of terror – The Collector of Living Souls. This enigmatic entity, driven by an insatiable thirst for the essence of life, traverses the shadowed corners of existence, preying upon the unsuspecting and capturing their very souls.

      Rumors of The Collector's existence have persisted for centuries, passed down through generations in hushed tones and fireside warnings. Some speak of a cloaked figure with eyes that glow like embers, while others describe a spectral presence that can slip through the slightest crack or crevice. Regardless of the form it takes, The Collector remains a constant source of dread, a chilling reminder of the unseen forces that lurk just beyond the veil of our perception.

      The Collector's methods are as varied as the souls it seeks. Some accounts depict it luring its victims with promises of power or riches, only to ensnare them in a web of deceit and despair. Others speak of the Collector's ability to manipulate the very fabric of reality, bending it to its will to entrap its quarry.

      Once captured, the souls of The Collector's victims are said to be subjected to a nightmarish existence, their essence slowly drained and their identities gradually erased. Some believe that these souls are then used to fuel The Collector's own power, while others whisper of a darker purpose, a grand design that only The Collector fully comprehends.

      The true nature of The Collector and its ultimate goals remain shrouded in mystery. Is it a malevolent entity driven by an insatiable hunger for souls, or is it something more, a twisted guardian of the balance between life and death? Perhaps the answers lie within the souls it has claimed, their fading echoes whispering tales of terror and despair from the depths of The Collector's macabre collection.

      Chapter 1 

      The Call of Shadows

      The fog rolled in like a shroud, swallowing the cobblestone streets of Grimhaven whole. Gaslights flickered, their dim glow barely piercing the thick, swirling mist. Elias clutched his worn coat tighter, the chill seeping through his threadbare clothes. He wasn't afraid of the cold, not anymore. Fear had become a luxury he could no longer afford.

      He hurried down the deserted alley, echoes of his footsteps bouncing off the damp brick walls. The air was thick with the smell of rotting vegetables and something else, something metallic and acrid. A shiver ran down his spine, a primal warning that sent his heart hammering against his ribs.

      Elias wasn't new to Grimhaven's underbelly. He knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows – cutthroats, pickpockets, all the usual suspects. But tonight, a different kind of terror gnawed at him. Tonight, he was searching for something far more unsettling – a whisper, a rumor that had haunted his nightmares for weeks.

      He had heard the hushed warnings spoken in smoky taverns – whispers of a shadowy figure, a collector of souls. Legends spoke of a being that stalked the fringes of reality, its touch leaving nothing but a hollow shell where a vibrant life once resided. The whispers painted a chilling picture, one that resonated with a chilling certainty in Elias' gut.

      He had seen it. In a fever dream, brought on by a week of hunger and despair, he had glimpsed a figure clad in darkness. Eyes, burning embers in the gloom, had locked with his, a cold, hungry glint that promised oblivion. Since then, the fear had been a constant companion, a cold weight pressing down on him.

      His destination – a dilapidated pawnshop at the end of the alley – loomed before him. The windows were boarded shut, the paint peeling off the facade in grotesque flakes. A tattered sign above the door creaked in the wind: Mordecai's Oddities - We Buy Your Secrets.

      Elias took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was madness, chasing shadows in the dead of night. But desperation had a way of pushing a man to his limits. He needed answers, even if they led him straight into the maw of the darkness he so feared.

      With a trembling hand, he reached out and knocked on the warped wooden door. The sound echoed like a death knell in the oppressive silence. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs, each beat a drumbeat for his mounting dread.

      After an agonizing wait, a sliver of the door creaked open. A single, rheumy eye peered out from the darkness. It gleamed with a malevolent intelligence that seemed to pierce Elias' very soul.

      What brings you to my humble abode? a voice rasped, dry as sandpaper. Elias swallowed hard, the taste of fear thick in his mouth.

      I... I'm looking for information, he stammered. About a collector... a collector of souls.

      The sliver of an eye widened. A cruel smile stretched across unseen lips. Ah, a seeker of forbidden knowledge. Come in then, friend. But be warned, knowledge often comes at a steep price.

      The door creaked open wider, revealing a cramped, dimly lit interior. Elias hesitated at the threshold, the shadows inside seeming to writhe with an unseen malice. Yet, a force stronger than his fear propelled him forward. He had to know. He had to know if the nightmare was real.

      With a deep breath, Elias stepped into the darkness, the chilling whisper of shadows closing in behind him. The hunt for the Collector of Living Souls had begun.

      Chapter 2

      First Collection

      The air inside Mordecai's Oddities hung thick with the scent of dust and decay. Elias squinted through the gloom, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through dusty cracks in the boarded windows. Mordecai, a wizened figure hunched over a cluttered worktable, watched him with a predatory glint in his single visible eye.

      So, you seek knowledge of the Collector, Mordecai rasped, his voice like dry leaves whispering in the wind. A dangerous quest, my friend. Not for the faint of heart.

      Elias, his throat dry, managed a nod. The fear gnawed at him, but the gnawing need for answers was stronger. I... I believe I've encountered it, he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He recounted his fever dream, the chilling encounter with the figure in the darkness.

      Mordecai listened intently, his wrinkled face betraying no emotion. When Elias finished, a long silence stretched between them, broken only by the rasping of Mordecai's skeletal hand scraping across the worktable. Finally, he spoke.

      The Collector is no mere figment of a feverish mind, he croaked. It exists, a being adrift in the shadows, hungering for the essence of life. Its methods are as varied as its victims. Some it lures with illusions of wealth and power, only to snatch their very souls. Others it takes with a touch, leaving behind a hollow shell.

      He gestured around the cluttered shop, pointing to a collection of macabre trinkets – a tarnished locket, a single, blood-stained feather, a child's doll with lifeless, vacant eyes. These, he said, his voice dropping to a low hiss, are the remnants, the echoes of those who have fallen prey to the Collector's hunger.

      Elias' stomach lurched. He gingerly reached out to touch the locket, a wave of sadness and despair washing over him. It was like peering into a void, a stark reminder of the fate that might await him.

      Mordecai chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. The Collector seeks its first collection tonight, he revealed, his words heavy with implication. A gathering of souls, ripe for the taking.

      Elias felt a surge of urgency. Can it be stopped? Is there a way? he asked, a desperate plea escaping his lips.

      Mordecai's smile stretched wider, revealing several pointed, yellowed teeth. There might be, he said,

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