War Darksiders Voice Novels & Stories

"Shall we solidify our alliance?" Moments later, Sylas Dreadmoor emerged from the shadows, a hulking figure that seemed to absorb the moonligjht rather than reflect it. His wolf form was monstrous, his silver-streaked black fur giving him the appearance of some ancient, primal beast. He shifted as he approached, his human form no less intimidating. Muscles rippled beneath his scarred skin, and his dark eyes gleamed with a dangerous intelligence. "Cassandra. Darius." His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder as he came to a stop before us. "I trust we're ready to discuss terms?"

“And no, it wasn’t Max. He meant to intervene but turns out he didn’t need to. Should I tell you all why? Or do you already know?” “Stop!” My mother strictly said. This is how she sounded when she berated us. Kent’s smile grew further up his cheeks. He looked at me, then came closer to examine me. His dark eyes followed my body, up and down. “Plain. Simple. Nothing extraordinary about her. Nothing like Marianna.” He stopped in front of me, his eyes reading mine. He searched for a few seconds, not sure what he was looking for, but I was being taken by their color. They weren’t fully black. It was almost like they had a hue of red in them. This was the first time I had seen a werewolves—a male

“Have you seen or been met by anyone suspicious during your time here?” George raised one eyebrow. “Are you trying to find out something?” “Just answer my question, it's for your sister.” “My sister? What happened to her? Is she being threatened by someone because of you?” Alpha Darren sighed, “can you just focus on answering my question?” “That time right before I woke up, I heard a male voice near me. Because I had just woken up from a coma afterward, I thought the voice was from my deep thoughts. To this day, I still remember the voice clearly.”

“Dawn Stalkers, come in. This is Alpha Danvers of the Ironpaw Pack. I repeat. This is Alpha Danvers of the Ironpaw Pack.” I paused, giving time for a response. Only silence. “Come in, Dawn Stalkers,” I said again. “This is Alpha Danvers of the Ironpaw Pack.” “Alpha Danvers,” a nervous-sounding voice came over the walkie. “Th-this is Warrior Sanders of the Dawn Stalkers.” “Warrior Sanders,” I answered. “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you but under the circumstances I think you can understand my hesitation.” “Yes, Alpha,” Sanders replied.

And then coming closer, he continued his orders. "Kriss Emmett Persephone Sage- The Phoenix Azen David- Red Rain Randall Quint - Earth’s Wrath Zen Parez- Intoxicator Alaiya Miller- Glistening Snow.” He called out the name of the title holders. Enunciating loudly, “To fight this war and bring me victory at all cost!"

"How's my sister?" "Sound asleep," Vador replied. "Something is wrong," Aleister said entering the room "Someone is coming," his eyes were now shades of grey "Avan,Emma,go,take Avan with you. Go to Alizon" "The dark witches are back," Vador said his eyes changing color." "That's right," someone replied across the room with her back turned. Immediately Vador was tied to a metal chair and so was Aleister. "How's the dark lord?" She asked turning to face them.

Author’s POV. In the dim, oppressive air of the dark den, the Dark Alpha’s voice echoed with a chilling resonance. "Damon, your army is useless. It didn’t help me terrorize Alpha Zander Blake,” he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. Damon stood amidst the flickering light of a ritual circle, the golden trident in his grasp glowing faintly. He had been channeling its ancient power, weaving warlock incantations to strengthen himself for the inevitable day of destruction. The interruption was unwelcome, his irritation evident in the way his shoulders tensed.

She argued that with vampirism, witchcraft, and senses of werewolves combined, we will be indestructible. “Niklaus was made with witch powers! Powerful with powers at that! And you think a bite from him would produce the same results?” Lucianna screamed once again, seeking for the attention to be diverted to her. I hid my claws when I saw my aunt averted her gaze to my cousin, Lucianna. I immediately sat beside Natyaramona and assisted her into standing up. Her breaths were heavy and sharp, panting and almost begging for the last of it.

Their expressions are solemn, but they can't fool me; I know they are worried. "I, Azrik Ragnharsen, elder of the Dragons and chief judge of this council, have heard the accusations from the Black Moon pack and accepted the request to attack the Moon Warriors pack." The voice of this being is deep and carries a different weight, something very similar to Hélios's voice.

Zorath’s spark burns, his calm a balm, their unity a light. Valthor leads explorers across the cosmos, his starlit helm a guide, his voice resolute. He charts new worlds, his blade gleaming, his unity a bridge between stars, his laugh echoing our battles. Lirien chronicles our saga in a radiant library, her tablet a cosmic archive, her scarred lunar mark shining. She scribes tales of the abyss, her defiance a spark for scholars, her voice clear. “Our story lives.” Kael mentors Shadowkin in a starlit forge, his void-blade a relic of loyalty, his gruff voice softened. He trains them to wield void and light, his aura steady, his redemption complete, his nod to me a silent vow.