Ghosted Whispers Novels & Stories

I whispered. I walked over to the counter, picked up the small bag, and slipped it into my coat pocket. Without wasting another second, I opened the door and walked out, leaving behind the safety of my room—and maybe, a part of myself too. I walked back outside and followed him. We got to Mrs. Yates's room, and I asked him to excuse us. He went outside; I looked at the woman and spat on her face, then injected her and she slept off immediately. After some few minutes, I walked back outside; he looked at me, waiting for an answer, and I gave him an assuring look before making my way upstairs.

She woke with the taste of iron in her mouth and the echo of those voices still humming in her skull. The fire had burned down to a bed of coals. A thin mist coiled across the clearing, clinging to the moss and stones. The wolves were already awake, silent and alert, their bodies tense as if awaiting a signal. Silas crouched at the edge of the river, washing his face. He glanced back at her when he heard her stir. “You felt it too?” She pushed herself upright. “All night. Like a song under the ground.” Caleb groaned, rubbing his eyes. “If you two are going to start talking about ghost songs at dawn, at least wait until I’ve had some water.”

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

The air was still cold, the temperature having dropped significantly due to the Echo Wraith. The Echo Wraith is a haunting presence within the Cavern of Eternal Echoes, a place known for its labyrinthine complexity and the disturbing resonance of every sound. It glides silently through the caverns, leaving behind a trail of maddening echoes. These echoes are warped, amplified distortions that play on the deepest insecurities and fears of those who hear them. They take on the voices of the damned, whispering hidden regrets and unconfessed sins, often blending them with a cacophony of falsehoods to disorient and unsettle their victims.

The fire struck the rotting velvet drapes, incinerating them instantly, but the chuckle only grew louder, more distorted. “Run to your Isle of Whispers,” the recording hissed as it began to fade, the magic sustaining it unraveling into oily soot. “Follow the ghost of a mother who couldn't even save herself. By the time you reach the shores, the transformation will be complete. The shadow will have its queen.” The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound left was the ragged breathing of the three survivors and the rhythmic drip…drip…drip of the rain through the shattered ceiling.

I began to chant as I felt the blood of Ares mixing with my own until I could feel his power coursing through my veins. I lift my hand and outstretched it until my long black fingernail was technically touching the barrier around the clearing. I watch as the tip of my nails began to bend until it melt. I smirked before retracting my hand. "Ester darling, I see you are not happy that I am visiting you today." I spoke and summoned one of my crows. This one name was Ghost, he had a liking for lost souls that lingered on earth.He could spot them quickly, something I have used him for occasionally when I want to suck some of the souls power. There is nothing more delicious than a wandering soul.

I remained oblivious for several minutes - or a thousand years, there is no telling - before I finally allowed the deafening sound of their whispers into my mind. It is not one this time, but many, and these are not the same as the one that drew me this close to oblivion. The whispers are fingertips clawing their way into the blank slate that is my soul. They are inside me, yet they are all around me, muttering in incoherent spates. It puts my senses on edge. Whenever they speak, they rush throughout my body like the touch of static. I cannot ignore them, but I can only stare into nothing, listening. The voices continue. They do not seem to speak to me, but rather to one another. I do not ev

Her silence. He hadn't slept. A knock echoed. Not on his door, but from the wall. Three soft taps. Ethan tensed. Three more. It wasn't rhythmic or taunting. It was deliberate. He stood, his legs weighed down with mass, and approached the wall that separated them. His fingers caressed the chilly surface. His breath caught. Another knock. Just one this time. He opened his mouth to say something—but nothing came out. Then, as a ghost in the air, her voice came through.

he whispered. THE END