Shadows Voice Novels & Stories

I demanded, my tone sharper than I intended as I scanned the room instinctively. “I go by many names,” the voice replied, calm and composed. “But you may call me Shadow. For now.” Shadow. Cryptic as hell. “What do you want?” I asked cautiously, all but forgetting the food in front of me. The voice held a haunting authority, weaving itself into my thoughts. “This isn’t about what I want, Grace. It’s about what you’ll do. Marcus’s fate hangs in the balance. What choice will you make?” Marcus. My father. His cries for help during the recent rogue attack flashed through my mind. My stomach churned, though this time it wasn’t just the pregnancy. How did this Shadow know?

Then, from the shadows of the far corridor, a voice purred from the darkness. “She’s finally losing it,” the voice said softly. Female. Familiar. Chilling. Brandon didn’t look back. He simply took a sip of his whiskey and replied without emotion, “How sad.”

Aren't you afraid of me? When he asked, my heart disintegrated, then erupted with shattered pieces, sending a loud, thunderous explosion into my chest, sending chills down my spine. His eyes were blood red, and when I briefly caught a peek at them, all I could make out was emptiness. I was standing next to such a sterile individual who was devoid of any emotions and incapable of feeling anything. His soothing voice kind of lured you in while also sending chills down your spine. He had rosy lips. His voice could have easily put someone into an unbreakable trance, but here I was in his presence holding onto my sanity.

“Centuries ago, twin alphas Fenrir and Faber Nightshade were born to lead Shadowfang. They fell for the same she-wolf, fated to Faber. Heartbroken, Fenrir founded Nightshade, carving a territory steeped in the land’s spirits. Their rituals, passed down through generations, border on magic, drawing power from the earth itself. That, paired with the three years of nearly complete silence... it feels deliberate and worrisom.” Aurora’s heart raced, her thoughts flickering to Vincent’s warnings about Nightshade’s unrest. The pack’s isolation, paired with this unnatural energy, pointed to something sinister. “This feels bigger than territorial disputes,” she mindlinked. “Like it could threaten all

I demanded " And, don't you dare take my shape or you will pay for that." "Like I said you can't do anything to me or my kind. We are shadows. We are like air. Anyone or any power can pass through us and the only person who can hurt us is our mistress or the person who belongs from our shadow family." the shadow informs. "And, who is your mistress?"I asked. "Her," the shadow pointed at Minerva and got down down on his knee in front of her " She is our Queen. The Mistress to the Shadows."

she asked, and Alex gave a soft laugh. She sensed humour from him, and annoyance from Lukas, but both were almost drowned out by their wariness, and no small amount of fear. Lukas sighed softly, "Shadows can merge with other shadows, becoming part of them," he said, his voice still near a whisper, "And can move through them, from one to another, with little resistance."

His voice was fierce, but Blair could see the uncertainty in his eyes. Lyra stepped closer, her expression a mix of fear and determination. “This isn’t who they really are,” she said, her voice steady. “We know them. We remember the love we shared. We can’t let this darkness define us!” The shadowy figure’s lips curled into a sneer. “You think your memories can save you? I am more than a reflection; I am your past, your regrets, your failures!” it taunted, its voice echoing around them like thunder.

“It’s the darkness!” The group huddled together as the shadow spoke in a deep, distorted voice. “You dare to challenge me? The relics are mine!” Wickham stepped forward, spear in hand. “We’re not afraid of you.” “You should be,” the shadow hissed, its tendrils lashing out.

a voice spoke - gentle, cautious. Her heart leapt, hope and doubt mingling like fire and ice. “Who are you?” she breathed. No answer came. Only the sound of a hand reaching out, a faint touch against her wrist - light, yet grounding. “You’re not alone,” the voice whispered. “Hold on.” Before she could respond, the footsteps faded, leaving her once again in silence and shadow. ~"~ Back in the city, at the safehouse, Travis paced like a caged wolf. The space where Lena had stood was now a void vibrating with a silent scream.

"It's been melted. That's your murder weapon. What's left of it anyway," "How can you tell?" the tech asks, a slight tremble in his voice. He knows her too. She gives him a quick once over before saying, "Trust me, that's your murder weapon," He nods, not daring to argue with her. No one with half a brain would argue with Jocelynn Sanches. The woman is a force to be reckoned with. Everyone, colleagues and criminals alike, are terrified to death of her. I would be lying if I said I was not one of them.