"There are voices of people that linger when their lives are unjustly taken from this earth," Crystal said. "Voices of blood, and people who can't get justice for themselves. These voices belong to the souls of the dead, and the innocent. They can haunt you, torment you, and even try to kill you if they are strong enough. They are like air. They can't be seen. They can't be touched. They can be felt, but mostly through one's hearing. They glide in the air. The strong wind can stop them, and so can fire. Nature doesn't necessarily stop them, but anything too loud for you to hear them can temporarily stop them. And that is why they are called whispers. "If these voices, or whispers linger for long, they become translucent enough to be seen. The best way they are mirrored to reflect their past is through water, fire, and blood. Other elements like earth, and air do not permit these. But should the air grant them the ability to be seen, then, earth has no choice but to allow the

Claire stood by a corner in a large room, and she was staring blankly at the wall. Anna sat at the edge of a bed silently watching her, and Neil sat on the floor looking at his shoes, the cat was next to him. "She's filled with more surprise than I thought," Claire said. Anna looked at Claire. She hoped that with Claire's help, this threat would finally be put to bed. But deep down, even she didn't believe that. She had seen the dream. She knew who to fear. "What are we to do, Claire?" Claire in her visible ethereal form, said, "I wish I knew. Rose controls their bodies. With them on her side, I fear I can do very little." "But you're Claire," Rose reminded her. "You can turn an entire village, city, and nation to i

Claire tilted her hand to let the black sand fall to the earth. The sands around her moved, making her look around. Running like streams of water, sand came together, piling upon the sand, gradually rising, crafting the shape of a man. The sand began to fall off, returning to the earth, and the face of a man remained. When the rest of the sand fell off, all that was left was a man. This man was tall with gray eyes, white hair, a fine muscular build, and he was handsome. He stood looking through the misty form of Claire, and she looked back at him. "White!" Claire's voice echoed. He seemed not to recognize her. He looked at her with care, trying to remember. "White! It's me, Claire Steele." It was then his eyes brightened, and he gazed at her with amazement. "Claire?" White c

Randall's day began like any other. He had a quickie with his wife, helped his children prepare for school, bathed, dressed, and had his breakfast. He stepped out of the house, wished his kids goodbye, called the office, and was about to step into his car when his skin turned cold, reacting to the crispness of the weather. The sky turned dark, and the wind made his jacket come to life, stirring like a thing wishing to be tossed into the turbulence. Randall looked to the sky, and he saw a bright flash of fire that vanished behind dark clouds. There were bangs, and the crackling of thunder. Lightning flashed, and a storm attacked the calm ocean on the other side of the village. It was loud all around, it seemed the world was about to crack open and spew forth demons. The ground shook, then there were more repeated flashes of fire. It w

Rose turned and continued to tend to her garden. Fred looked at each rose. All healthy and red. A perfect snare for butterflies, bees, dragonflies, and any other insect or bird that dare venture into this place, including men. But he wasn't a man. He was a beast, one specifically designed for Rose's liking. "Where do your sisters stand in this?" Fred asked. Rose answered without looking at him, "They don't really have a choice. I still control their bodies. Claire knows that. At least, she's no fool about that. That's why when White seeks what she's sent him out to find, she will restrain my sisters and come to face me." She gave a side head gesture. "Then, I would surprise her." This was the most powerful family on