Invisible Storm Novels & Stories

Anonymous Watching from my hideout at the foot of the embankment, I could see the car flip over multiple times before bursting into flames. Seeing them race towards the burning car made something crack inside me but I couldn’t stop now. BOOM! The sound of the explosion shook the area. I knew the remains were unidentifiable. It was all part of the plan that I had agreed on. Thankfully, I still had inside help to get through this. In two weeks it will all be over. I hope.

I didn't know what to say or do again to avoid another slap. "You have to go deliver the package now." He yelled and i scurried away. I'm dirty,hungry and I feel irritated. I saw the package which was lying on the center table in the living room. I picked it up and went outside. I streched and looked up in the sky. It was bright just like my Luna. I miss her so much and wish all of these hadn't happen. That evil witch killed my Luna and made me marry her and now her brother sees me as a delivery man.

CHAPTER ONE -WILHELMINA- The storm was a monstrous entity, a simmering chaos that loomed above the forest. It seemed to echo the tumultuous fury within my heart, thundering with all the passion and determination that drove me forward. Despite the storm’s rage, I pushed on, my paws sinking into the sodden earth with each determined step. Suddenly, there it was - amidst the riotous weather and foreboding wilderness - a shimmering glint caught my eye.

Visibility plummeted to near zero, and even Tristan's acute wolf senses struggled to penetrate the veil. The storm's fury intensified, and a flash flood swept through the valley, washing away tracks and scents. Tristan adapted, drawing upon his knowledge of the terrain and wolf behavior to navigate the chaos. Just when it seemed impossible to continue, a faint howl pierced the storm's cacophony. Tristan's heart racing, he followed the cry, his wolf instincts guiding him through the tempest.

'Or foolish. "Either works..." Lloyd disregarded it and the familiar trill about Holly and Ivy as he forced his head down to look into the whirling mists. For a moment, all he saw was grey. Thick and oppressive like the clouds of a violent storm. It rose and fell as if it were breathing, tendrils lifting and reaching to caress the hull. But as he continued to stare, shapes began to form.

The moment the room fell back into a quiet, shadowed dark, the invisible wire in my chest gave another sharp, violent jerk. Across the Blackwater Sea, hidden deep within the unnatural fog of the archipelago, the identical frequency was pulsing in the dark. It was days away, delayed by the tides and the cold, but the connection was tightening. As Silas's breathing leveled out into the heavy rise and fall of sleep, I lay wide awake in the dark, my eyes locked on the western window, waiting for a storm that had already claimed half my soul.

The storm-ravaged plateau was a desolate battleground, a high, flat expanse of rock perched atop the cliffs that ringed the Silver Claw valley, now transformed by the fury of nature. The plateau was wide but treacherous, its surface slick with rain, pocked with shallow pools and jagged cracks that threatened to trip the unwary. The edges dropped sharply into the ravine below, where the river roared, its waters swollen and violent from the storm. The sky above was a churning mass of black clouds, lit by flashes of lightning that split the heavens, their jagged bolts illuminating the plateau in stark, fleeting bursts. Thunder rolled like a war drum, its rumble shaking the ground, and the rain

With that, Emereah's gaze frozen, her body coiling in wait for what was to come. The wind wailed its mournful melody through the trees, its ghostly cry a warning knell, and yet she did not move. At her side, Vladimir's white-knuckled clenched grip on his sword whitened, his eyes bulging with increasing comprehension of the storm that came. The air chilled, the trees themselves distorting as Morgane's hunger leaked out, a black corruption spreading down channels of land and tree.

A sound so raw it tore straight through both of us. We ran. Storm sat upright in his bed, clutching his chest, eyes rolled white — not glowing softly like they did when the Goddess whispered — but blazing. Outside, the snowstorm intensified, ice crusting across the windows like claws. “Storm!” I dropped to my knees beside him. “Baby, look at me. Look at Mama.” He shook violently. “Bad man… bacckk…!”

The air in the Steele mansion was thicker than it had ever been before, as if the walls themselves had absorbed every whisper, every secret, every betrayal, and now pressed down upon the house’s occupants with the weight of inevitability. Sierra stood at her bedroom window, staring out into the darkened garden. A storm was rolling in, the clouds swelling and bruised with menace. She thought of it as a mirror of her life so close to breaking, heavy with all the unsaid words and hidden sins.