The Voice Of The Hero Novels & Stories

a voice in her head tried to assert her consciousness. Rina knows who it is, Lydia is trying to kick in her consciousness and take the lead. The woman refuses to let her being controlled by an unknown woman who only causes her misery. Her consciousness faded as soon as the voice in the darkness of her heart suffocated her. Scaring her from doing anything, her toxic suggestion drowned her. * * *

News really have its way to fly and spread like a wildfire. Hero suddenly shifted his grip on my wrist to a wrap on my shoulder, pulling me closer to his chest. Dazed of how he protects Alyana, I looked up at him, his gaze pasted to everyone was so plain, I can't even read any emotion on them. "They are asshole---" "Shhh, they're here" Hero gave them a threatening look which, in an instant, suppressed the talking. Notice that shift of attitude? Fantastic! Note the sarcasm, please.

The air grew more nippy with every stride so I could see my own breath. Then I heard his voice. "The guilty Alpha." I turned but didn’t see anything. The voice came from below and around. From inside my own head. ”Ain’t you still trying to be a hero after destroyin’ your mate. Malachai. The Void was talking to me.

the angry voice paused then turned into a smirk. "Don’t tell me, you buy the directors with your body to get the 6 in the ranking of heroes?" the angry voice teased but then turned into a sneer. The middle aged woman continued to cry, not bothering to fight the guy who shouted at her, the lost water that was retracted earlier had once again resurfaced and touch all of the heroes who did not have the ability to shield themselves from getting wet by this water that obviously came out from the middle aged lady tears, curses loudly and shouted towards the middle aged lady who simply turned deaf.

Because of what he said, I think it triggered the voice I've been hearing to be louder. Hestia! Hestia! Summon me! Hestia! "Thank you, Kuya." I said and hugged him for 5 seconds before jumping down. I raised my sword and collected thunder bolts coming from the sky. As soon as I landed my foot on the floor the Dark Knights attacked me. Again, I buried my sword in the floor. With the dazzling light coming from my sword, I closed my eyes and felt the presence of the voice. "Soy Hestia Phoenix. Ven a mí, mi preciosa criatura."

How does one explain the rotten complexity of war, guilt, and survival to a child? “August…” I said, my voice softer than I knew I was capable of. “Sometimes, being a hero isn’t about never being afraid or never… hesitating.” The word burned on my tongue. “It’s about what you do afterward. It’s about protecting the people you love, no matter the cost. It’s about getting back up when you fall.” He looked at me, his eyes serious, scanning my face for the truth. “So… you would protect Mommy and me?” he asked, his voice a whisper full of hope.

No sight of any way out or chance for surviving, and then I remembered my mom's last words to me. "At your darkest hour, when all seems lost and there is no hope of light. When you feel the darkness pressing in on you from every side, when you find yourself standing on the precipice of oblivion, A Hero will descend from the Moon. His glittering silver face will cast a bright light upon your path. Avoid him, but it will be impossible. You will thrive hard to run... that's when the beast in you will Awake, and you'll meet the real you"

I shouted quickly. Adipati took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "You know? I was bullied in high school; they abused me and took a video of me half-naked. It's a very horrible memory. They even spread the video; luckily, now no one has it because Kenan has cleaned up everything! From the story, You should know just this, right? How much Kenan means to me?" Hearing my story, Adipati's expression immediately turned somber. "I'll only consider him a hero, not someone I love, so... don't worry! I've prepared a special place for you in my heart!" I smiled so broadly in front of Adipati, making the man slowly soften and smile.

"Has the last battle left you with such confidence, Warrior? I know the sword told you of my presence. Yet, you do not draw it. Bravery or stupidity?" The voice—male—with a lilt to it, like an accent—Irish?—there, but not really there.

Something alive. I reached for the scarf I’d wrapped around my hand and tied it over my head, concealing my face. Only my eyes remained visible, hard, wild, and unflinching. “There are no heroes on a white horses in this world,” I said, my voice softer now, but charged with the storm building inside me, “There are only monsters. So be your own hero. Don’t die beneath a monster’s boot just because he’s stronger than you. Die for your honor! For your fury! For your name!