Lord Of Whispers Novels & Stories

“Jackson? What the hell is going on now? Esme?” “I don’t know what happened. I was desperate to speak to him, but not stop speaking to you then my head started hurting. You can both hear me?” “Yep and each other too.” Brodie seemed as confused as I was. “What’s going on? With the meeting I mean.” Jackson stumbled over his words as he spoke. “Turner has leaked a photograph of a werewolf to the press. It’s just a warning shot. The photo is blurry. He’s warning me what will happen if I don’t hand over power.” Jackson walked through the door and surveyed the room.

“They call him Il Fantasma Vittore.” The words stopped me cold. “What did you just say?” He coughed, blood staining his teeth. “The Ghost of Vittore. He took your war and turned it into prophecy. He says the son-in-law stole the throne, and he’s here to take it back.” My jaw locked. “That name’s dead.” He laughed weakly. “Not to them.” I didn’t think. I pulled the trigger. His body slid down the wall, lifeless. The name still echoed in my head like a curse.

But the end of what was unclear. I searched the abyss and found nothing. Fear overwhelmed me; images started to appear one by one. Cleo, Prue, work, mum, and the last was Damian. Each disappeared as if they were smoke. Whisps filled the air and dissipated one at a time until there was only one left. The whisp from Damian floated across to me. It morphed into a guiding light as the ticking became faster. Something deep inside felt the pull; I needed to follow it. Step by step, one foot in front of another, I followed his light. It led me to a door in the middle of the abyss. The door stood solid in front of me as the whisp passed through it and disappeared.

But he still held me firmly, hoarsely saying, "Alisha, I can't...even if you hate me, I..." His words were not finished when suddenly the surrounding black mist began to thicken, even covering the moon in the sky. A nauseating and foul stench filled the air. I widened my eyes, staring ahead. In the black mist, an immensely huge wolf manifested its form. The trees around it appeared petite in its presence. In its eye sockets were two crimson flames that emitted an ominous glow within the black mist. The Lord of Dark had appeared.

She spins toward the altar and slams the dagger down, deep, into the center of the obsidian. A pulse blasts through the room cracking the walls. The veil shimmers , half-open. And from beyond it, a low, ancient and hungry whisper seeps through. I know that voice. Even though I’ve never heard it before. Raelor Lycaon.

“The oaths bind every court. If we break them, the other kings will move against us. The tiger. The lion. The wolf. Even the ape lords would...” “Enough,” I snap. “You think I fear a council of half-beasts? You think I won’t drown their dens and make them drink my wrath?” He opens his mouth again, but I am already done. “Leave,” I say. “Before I add another body to my garden.” He drags the poisoned one away, careful not to look back. When the doors close, silence fills the basilica again, heavy and soft as a python’s coil. The Whisper Choir moves then, their silent shadows sliding down from the upper balconies. Their faces are painted white, their mouths sewn shut, and their eyes blindfolded

At the bottom, there were piles of wolves, their bodies still and their fur stained with blood. Something terrifying was sitting on the throne. A shadowy figure stood before me, its face hidden and its fingers long and claw-like. It seemed to watch me even though it had no eyes, and its presence felt like thousands of unseen hands pressing against my skin. And then it spoke. A voice that crept into my thoughts, a voice that seemed to be everywhere. "They are not ready." And another, “They're ready.” A sharp pain stabbed through my skull. I gasped, dropping to my knees as the whispers grew louder, curling around me like chains.

she whispered, reclaiming control, drawing back but leaving the taste of temptation hanging between them. He straightened, shoulders stiff, gaze blazing. “I’ve heard whispers… of an order. Shadow Assassins.” His voice dropped lower, reverent, fearful. “They deal only in death. No trace, no trail. Their contracts vanish like smoke. Ancient, older than any court. Once sworn, they never fail.” Veronica’s breath quickened, excitement cutting through her fury. “Shadow Assassins…” She let the name roll across her tongue like a spell. “Whispered in corners, but never seen.”

It became hard and protruded. That was when my body became active. But instead of thinking it was Layla. I imagined it to be Lucas. She shifted from my nipple, but her fingers caressed the other nipple. She moved to my earlobe sucking it. I felt my body hunger for more. Not because it was her, but because I felt it to be Lucas. She stooped low, her fingers guided as she pulled down the hem of my trouser. "Let me suck you till glory" she whispered, a sound of pleasure escaped her.

The air tightens, The wind stills. And the whispers return. Elixir. I stumble back, gasping. My head pounds, my vision swimming. I hear voices around me, Soren calling my name, hands grabbing my arms to steady me. But none of it feels real. Only the whispers. Only the mark. Only the truth I have spent my life trying to ignore. I was never meant to be free. I was always meant to be found. The Return of the Shadow The whispers grow louder, no longer just murmurs but voices, overlapping, pressing into my mind. My knees hit the ground, my breath sharp and ragged. The symbol beneath me pulses, the air thick with unseen energy.