He Is The Chosen One Mga Nobela at Kwento

"You are the chosen one. The one who was born to protect the ruler. Bow to the chosen one, the fairest divine." I huffed. This has to be some kind of joke. "I'm sorry but you've got the wrong person," I dismissed them as I made my way out of their midst, expecting them to also find their way. But surprisingly, not one but all of them began chanting like they were some sort of cult, "All hail the chosen one. The one who was conceived to bring peace to the nation. The fairest divine. " What was this? I began running in the opposite direction to get away from them, but it was as though the more I ran, the closer they were to me. Even while I closed my ears with both hands, it seemed as though t

He wants to become something the people around him would have never thought or imagined he could become, most especially, the Elders. Once he turned eighteen, they assigned the role of a watchman to him, and even though he wanted to become something more than that, he knows it was the only thing they could offer him in their coven. But then his uncle, Elder Donovan, told him about the coming of the Chosen One, someone who would come to save the world and redeem them—someone powerful enough to overthrow the Elders. Sage knows that the world is not normal with his kind in it, and so, he readily accepted the task his uncle gave to him and already accepted whatever consequence it would bring to

I said stubbornly. The high priest shook his head at me, "There are far more precious things for the chosen one to be doing than fixating over a lost cause." "He is not a lost cause, stop calling him that." He got up from his meditative stance, "We have waited for the chosen one for a while now and here you are finally. You have a lot to learn, you need to learn how to use your powers to stop the forces of darkness that are converging. Only you can do it."

As if she had stamped it into my memory by just saying so, I nodded back in confirmation. I asked, "How will I recognize the chosen one?" The healer's voice held a touch of mystery. "The chosen one will bear the mark of Lythian, a birthmark shaped like a crescent moon on their right shoulder. They will possess unique abilities and a very, very strong spirit." I squinted, "They?" He nodded, "Yes, they. The chosen one is two in one."

Three days until the Whitfield Scholarship exam. Out of nowhere, a neighbor from our old street called to ask how much the villa had sold for. "The way that mother and son throw money around, it must have gone for a fortune." I had no idea what she was talking about. The villa was the wedding gift my mother gave me. I would never have sold it. Three years ago, my son had just won a place at the best public high school in the city. My husband said Noah was coddled and had no idea how ordinary people lived. To break him of it, we moved out of the villa and into a cramped, aging walk-up. Three years of high school. I lived that lean life beside him, buying marked-down produce. Noah tr

I shot at him. He shrugged again acting like he was not quite shocked about my behavior towards him. “It’s not like I care so much. It’s just, You’re the chosen one.” He said. It was disappointing and a little hurtful for him to say that he didn’t care but with his dark and nonchalant behavior it was not so surprising, so I pushed the thought away. “I’m the chosen one?” I said with a half laugh. “That’s funny because earlier on you definitely did not think that.”

"And then there's us, at the very bottom. We're used during celebrations or married off to men chosen by Luna Iris whenever she wishes. But if I become your friend, maybe you'll make me your servant when you become one of the King's favorites." A sarcastic laugh escaped me. "And who told you I want a position beside that man?" "Is there anyone who doesn't want to be close to him?" she asked confidently "Being close to him is everyone's dream. He's the King of Werewolves." I slowly shook my head. Then I laughed softly, closed my eyes, and muttered, "Idiots." The door opened. I slowly opened my eyes. A blonde girl entered. Her eyes were blue, and she looked incredibly arrogant. Her chin was li

And this time— He won’t be choosing who breaks.

“Please tell me this isn’t a ‘chosen ones’ speech.” Ronnie shoots him a look. “It absolutely is.” Callen grimaces. “Fantastic.”

“My granddaughter is the chosen one.” Here we go with the chosen one again. “What does that mean?” “It means she is how we win the war that is coming.”