Whispers In The Winds Novels & Stories

(Isla’s POV) The morning in Crescent Valley felt heavier than usual. Frost clung to the valley trees like silent witnesses, and the wind carried whispers I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. Lyra stirred beneath my skin, uneasy. He’s close. You feel it. I did. Rowan’s presence lingered across the distance, even though he had left the night before, stepping back into shadows I couldn’t reach. But the bond, the pulse, the ache didn’t lie. It throbbed, raw and impatient, a tether I couldn’t ignore.

"The wind—it's getting dangerous!" "I just know," Kael whispered as he watched the wind accelerate into a screaming vortex. He could hear her cries shift from sobs to a loud, agonizing scream that ripped through the air, echoing off the cliffs. The sound was visceral, filled with years of loneliness, hatred, and a grief so heavy that he felt it too.

I whispered, clutching at myself as something inside me roared awake. But the Seer was taken by a cold wind whispering gibberish as I tried to pay attention to what the wind was saying.

I stepped back as the door turned red. Moving slowly through the hall, step, step, step, step. The ticking started once more. I needed to find my escape. I ran through a door to the right to find myself falling into a field of grass. Whispers of voices being carried with the wind. So many voices all at once, none were discernible. Shadows began appearing along the horizon, and the whispers increased.

Loud laughs and hoots of encouragement rose from the crowd watching, as they found my humiliation very entertaining. She lowered her head close to mine and whispered. “I wish you would cease to exist.”

The wind moved first. Not the trees. Not the wolves. The wind. It slid between bodies like fingers through hair, like tongues across skin, humming with something ancient… something awakened. It carried the copper heat of blood and the crushed sweetness of jasmine petals. It whispered names none of them had spoken in decades. Names like prayers. Names like curses. And at the center of it all—Jasmine. Not Jasmine the courtesan. Not Jasmine the captive. Not even Jasmine the whisper in Blackfang’s filthy court.

His body pressed against mine, hot and unwanted. As we rode out, the brothel fading behind us, smoke started to rise from the windows. Flames licked the roof. Vesper’s screams echoed in my ears. And in my chest, that strange pull tugged harder—like a warning I couldn’t understand. But there was no time to wonder. The pack lands loomed ahead, dark and waiting.

The people around talked amongst themselves but never did they realize that they were gonna see yet another unbelievable spectacle in the next breath. “When the wind blows, listen to its whispers. Only a foolish man remains deaf in the ever changing guises of nature.” Tristan spoke these mysterious words and his voice echoed out into the area and beyond. “When the wind blows, listen to its whispers. Only a foolish man remains deaf in the ever changing guises of nature.” An old man muttered the words out loud and was stunned in place. This was exactly his master’s guiding precepts when he was alive. “BANG!” The old man’s figure vanished and when he materialized once more, a huge dent could be

The Hollowing Wind They heard it before they saw it. The wind didn’t howl. It whispered. A low, circular murmur—like someone breathing into their ear from miles away. Every gust carried not cold, but memory. Fragments of voices. Laughter turned to screaming. Screams turned to silence. Maya tightened the cloak around her shoulders. The dagger hung heavy at her hip now, its metal slick with oil and blood. The Testament pulsed like a wound in her satchel.

"It reminds us that our concordance is connected to the animals of this domain." The caretakers gestured in assention, their faces radiant with the delight of ensuring their individual sky-dwellers. "In fact, it's a way to celebrate the interconnecting of all things." Whispering Winds included a profound association with the currents and breezes that streamed through the skies. The sky-dwellers accepted that by tuning in to the whispers of the wind, they might pick up experiences into the agreement and balance of their domain. “These winds carry the stories of the skies,” one of the Whispering Winds specialists shared, their voice as delicate as a breeze. “We accept that by attuning ourselve