Novelas y relatos de The Chosen

"The prophecies speak of an awakening, a time when the light would call to its chosen. We are those chosen. We are the ones who will stand against the darkness." "But why us?" Ren asked, his voice filled with doubt. "Why were we chosen?" Sol smiled, a gentle expression. "The light does not choose based on power or status. It chooses based on heart. You were chosen because you are willing to fight for what matters. Because you have love in your hearts. Because you refuse to give up." Elara felt the artifacts pulse within her, a reminder of the power she carried. She had been chosen too, not because she was special, but because she was willing. Willing to sacrifice, willing to fight, willing t

Cassian stepped forward. I choose Arielle. Lyra raised her sword. I choose my family. Elara smiled. I choose creation. Kael lifted his hand. I choose possibility. Adrian closed his eyes. I choose uncertainty. Noah stepped forward. I choose to be Noah. Hope looked toward the sky. I choose the future. The Witness lifted his tiny hand. Silver light spread through the clearing. The Creator whispered, And I choose to learn. The Shadow King looked at everyone. Then I choose to become better than what I was created to be.

I am Aurora, Princess of the Crimson Moon, the North's most powerful pack. But I gave my heart to a worthless rogue named Blake. In my past life, I defied tradition to make him my personal guard. We were inseparable. I fought my own pack to make him my mate. But on the night of our mating ceremony, under the Blood Moon... He plunged a silver dagger straight into my heart. I was three months pregnant with his child. As I bled out, he whispered in my ear, his voice dripping with venom, "If it weren't for you, I'd already be with Clara. You deserve this!" That's when I understood. He never loved me. He only craved power. He had always wanted my sister, Clara—the pack's chosen heir. Then, I open

For once, I wasn’t sure what reaction I expected. Anger. Dismissal. Nothing. Silas turned his head slightly. Not fully facing me. Just enough. “You already know the answer to that,” he said. My chest tightened. “No,” I replied immediately. “I don’t.” Silence again. Then he spoke, quieter this time. “You were chosen.” The word landed differently than the rest. Chosen. Not found. Not saved. Chosen. I stared at him. My thoughts slowed. Then fractured. “By who?” I asked.

His voice did not change not one degree of flatness added or removed. I catch the shape of victor's reply,it was a warm agreement. Of course, of course. He mentioned registration,proper channels,the Summit's responsibility to wolves of *particular lineage* who might otherwise fall through procedural cracks. He said *particular lineage* the way you say a phrase you have been saving for a specific moment ,it was careful, clean and without elaboration, the way you put a card on the table face-up and wait to see if the other person blinks.

Her lips trembled twice before she slowly withdrew and stepped back. Mary bent down and tied the cloak for me, knot by knot, as if handling something fragile and precious. There was no moon on the day of the cremation. The sky was heavy and dark, not a single star in sight. The wind was strong, making the pinewood platform creak softly, like it was sighing. My body was placed on the platform, hands folded over my chest, as if I were only asleep. David stood in front of it, holding a torch.

“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.”

Her wedding veil hung low over her face, and her head was bowed as silent sobs shook her shoulders. Her tears had soaked the front of her ceremonial dress, and the fabric clung to her like sorrow itself. My heart ached at the sight. I quietly walked over and knelt beside her, speaking in a gentle whisper: "Dear... why are you crying? Being claimed is supposed to be a joyful thing." But she didn't even glance at me. I hesitated, then opened the small pouch I carried and fumbled through its contents until I found the little armor charm I had made during the flight.

There weren’t many of them, but they filled my chest with a hope that made me want to grin wildly. “Say it again,” my wolf purred, “Don’t let it shrink, say it confidently and know what we are.”. “Not cursed,” I whispered, and my lips trembled, so I pressed them together, then forced them open once more. “Chosen.” A comforting warmth spread under my skin, steady and sure, as if something inside me had been waiting for those exact words. “Now all you have to do is remember that,” my wolf said proudly. “When they spit, when they whisper poison to all who will listen, remember that we were chosen and they were not.”

He had given her the book, given her the truth, but the weight of it pressed against her like an iron chain. She finally looked up. "What does it mean to be Chosen?" Aedric exhaled, stepping closer. "It means you are more than human. More than Lycan. It means the moon has claimed you for something greater." Lillian shook her head. "That doesn’t tell me what I am." Aedric’s golden eyes flickered in the torchlight. "Because no one knows," he admitted. "The records are incomplete. What happened to the first Chosen is a mystery. But she was powerful—powerful enough to change the course of history."