Whistling Mine Novels & Stories

The slave-dealer glared at me and beckoned me to do like the other girls. ‘Do not look at me!’ I thought to myself, like an order. Then, I turned to the Lingering still on my back. ‘Can you get rid of those girls, they make me feel sick?’ The Lingering raised its head, gauged the worth of the other girls then darted towards them. I opened my eyes wide; it was definitely listening to me. ‘Stop! Don’t kill them!’ The auctioneer introduced us, one by one, exposing us as we could shit gems.

"Thane, Vestra, and four scouts. The rest stay here and prepare." The Whispering Pass was a narrow gorge that cut through a range of low, forested mountains east of Ironmaw territory. Its name, Thane informed them as they approached, came from the sound the wind made as it moved through the rock formations — a constant, mournful sigh that some said was the voices of ancient seers who had died protecting the enclave.

The angle made me gasp; every thrust dragged against that sensitive place inside me and sent sparks up my spine. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, nails digging lightly into his back. The only sounds were the soft slap of skin, our uneven breathing, and the quiet, broken words we whispered against each other’s mouths, I love you, don’t stop, you’re mine, I’m yours.

Just the baby. Just getting there in time. Inside the ambulance I gripped the edge of the stretcher. Breathing uneven. Pain ripping through me in waves that no longer gave me time to recover. “Stay with us,” a voice said. “I’m here,” I whispered. But it didn’t feel like it. Everything was slipping. Everything was spinning. And through it all One thought broke through the chaos. Clear. Loud. Unavoidable. I don’t want him here. The realization hit just as hard as the pain.

Since Mane couldn’t speak to Hildegarde whenever he was around others, she could say anything she wanted and beam in satisfaction as Mane could do nothing to defend himself. She was right though. The stick Mane was chewing onto was called the ‘Lover’s Whisper’. It was mined from the trunk of a millennium old Hyperion. It was great for clearing the head, and easing a person’s fatigue. It prevented cases of accumulated fatigue, and was very rare. It lightened a person’s burdens, and was a generally useful. However, it had some side effects and some negative aspects. The negative aspect of Lover’s Whisper was its smell and taste. Anyone taking it for the first time would be repulsed by how it s

’ It could be the silver deposits that remained in the mine blocking us. We crept forward, phantoms in the dim light. An unsettling quiet pressed in, devoid of birdsong or insect buzz, just an oppressive hush. Then, the silence shattered. Terrified screams clawed from the mine's maw. I charged forward, Ray close behind, chasing the dreadful sound. Angry shouts and the staccato bursts of gunfire echoed. More screams, each one a fresh stab of fear. The earth shuddered with an explosion, dislodging a rain of rocks.

The walls were reinforced with old woods, but the wood was rotting, covered in the same black frost we’d seen in the cellar. "There is no scent," Jax whispered. "I can't smell anything ." "I can," I said. "It smells like… I don’t know." We moved deeper into the shaft. The floor was uneven, littered with rusted mining tools and broken carts. Every time a pebble skittered under my boot, the sound echoed for what felt like miles. The whistling started again. It was closer now. It seemed to be coming from a side tunnel, a narrow passage that led down into the lower levels.

But this child—the daughter of a King who surrendered and a Slave who rebelled—was a blank page. Suddenly, the baby stirred. Her tiny fingers, surprisingly strong, reached out and grabbed the silver-green whistle that still hung around Audrey’s neck. It was the whistle Caelum had given her in the tunnels—the one that had once summoned the spirits of the forest. As the child’s skin made contact with the ancient metal, a faint, crystalline chime rang out. It wasn't a magical blast or a psychic scream. It was a clear, perfect note that seemed to resonate with the steam-pipes, the iron walls, and the very wind itself.

Roll down the window. Theria pressed the power window button, and the window slid out of sight. An eerie whistling filled the night air and seemed to get closer, "I think that's what we are looking for, right?" "Yeah, I think so," Warren paused, "How did the whistling work again? The louder it is, the safer we are, or was it the other way around." Theria went red, and a weak smile appeared on her face, "I forgot too," She giggled.

"Once the guards investigate, we slip inside." Nathanial agreed, and I carefully picked up a few stones, tossing them into the distance. The clatter of rocks striking together echoed through the night, drawing the guards' attention. They moved away from the entrance, their curiosity piqued. "Now," Nathanial whispered urgently, and we dashed toward the mine shaft, slipping inside just as the guards turned back. The interior of the mine was cold and damp, the air thick with the scent of earth and decay. We moved cautiously, the narrow passages twisting and turning in a labyrinthine maze. The faint sound of whimpers and chains guided us deeper, until we finally reached a large chamber.