Witch Voices Novels & Stories

Women screamed, but the wolves were gentle, persistent, and moved them out of harm’s way. “Not only was my mother not raped,” Creed spoke in a roaring voice. His newly healed vocal cords screamed at him not to use them so freely in the listening ears of the tribe. Clearing his throat, he walked to the elders, who were pushed to the front by several wolf shifters, two of them being Alpha Seth and Princess Sadie.

The demon’s voice changed simultaneously from that of an old woman to that of a small girl and back to a young teenage boy all the voices were screaming one thing “She belongs to us!” The voices then reverted back to an old woman’s and then suddenly changed into a deep croaking voice. “I consecrate and clear Wendy Wayne, let nothing but joy linger around her, in Jesus name!” The black smoke hit up to the sky and it dissipates in a loud ghostly moan and a really long bloody centipede crawled out and I smashed the insect with my feet. Wendy is lying on the ground unconscious, I come to her and she’s still breathing so I lift her up and a portal appears behind me

The witches, their voices harmonizing in an ancient language, created a melodic cacophony that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the night. Their words were a tapestry of power and mysticism, weaving through the air like ethereal threads. "Mystica et verita, vocem nobis cedo! Mystica et verita, arcanum revelo!" they chanted, their voices rising and falling in a haunting melody. Each syllable seemed to vibrate with an energy that sent shivers down my spine.

Let's see how any of you passes. “You're the … the white…” "Yes, I am," I cut off Ciara's stuttering. "And like I said previously, turn back." My voice was thick and frightening. What shocked me more was that they could hear it. My mouth was moving, words spoken aloud. Wolves never spoke verbally, only through mindlink. And yet here I was, speaking. I might be the only wolf who could. Their shock was almost greater than mine. “Ava?" Axton whispered softly, disbelief burning in his eyes.

I would not let this ungrateful brat ruin Quinn's life again, not in a million years. My refusal made her stomp her feet in frustration. Just as she was about to say something else, a cool voice interrupted. "Even if she were willing to let go, I wouldn't agree to it." Quinn had returned and was now standing beneath the willow tree. His gaze was icy and resolute.

“Whatever it was, forget it. Where is Lady Lamia? What’s taking her so long?” “Ask Lui.” While the vampires were distracted, Drex, James, and Rebbeca shifted into their small wolf forms—looking like a pack of lost, adorable puppies. “We have to use wolf-speak,” Drex yapped, his voice sounding like a small puppy. “That creature’s ears are as sensitive as ours. If we communicate like this, she won't understand. Whoa! Whoa!” “Woof! Understood,” Rebbeca yapped back.

the Guardian horse intoned, her voice rippling through Serenya’s lips, both a blessing and a command. The group straightened as one. Chests filled with breath, spines lengthened, eyes lifted from despair to determination. Cheyenne pressed the twins closer to her heart, her own eyes wet but fierce. “We rise,” she whispered. “And we stay W.I.L.D.” A low murmur of agreement spread through the gathered allies—vampire, witch, wolf, dragon, phoenix, Guardian—until it swelled into a vow. Not shouted, not screamed, but spoken like steel hammered into unbreakable shape.

His bare feet slap against the wet ground. He doesn't remember how long he has been running. The graveyard stretched in every direction. Then he hears them. Not with his ears. Inside his skull, thirteen voices speaking as one, a chorus that vibrates through his bones He was hearing the witches' voices but not with his ears. He heard them inside his mind, thirteen witches speaking as one, a chorus that vibrated through his bones: "Sanguis sanguine servat... You spoke our words with wolf-blood. You owe us. Nothing goes for nothing.

Alphas speak, and the room reshapes itself around their voice. And I couldn't speak. Not really. I could talk. My vocal cords still worked, and my tongue still formed words. But I couldn't hear my own voice. Couldn't modulate tone, couldn't adjust volume, couldn't tell if I was shouting or whispering. The first month after the curse, I'd spoken too loudly in a council session and watched Alpha Voss flinch as I'd struck him. The second month, I'd spoken too softly and watched the same Alpha lean forward with a predator's smile, scenting weakness.

"Because I chose the right person." Those words became the final blow that broke Wyatt completely. Like a madman, he pulled out a rusty dagger from his sleeve and lunged at me, screaming, "I'll kill you! You wretched woman! I'll drag you down with me!" "You’ve got a death wish." Joseph's expression darkened. Before Wyatt could even get close, he kicked him hard. Wyatt flew backward like a ragged sack, crashing onto the ground, blood spilling from his mouth. He would not be able to get up for a long time.