Yokai Whisper Novels & Stories

Zen’s POV “You’re fucking kidding with this right? A real to god WEREWOLF,” I yelled out to Whisper as she ignored me pacing in front of me, speaking to no one with her hands flying up in the air. I watched her stop and look at the swirling air in front of her and a hand appeared grabbing her and she was gone. I moved towards it, but it vanished and a low baritone voice spoke from behind me, “who are you?”

It was an enchantment. Small scintillating pieces resembling stars hopping around the scattered wishing bottles caught her instant attention. With a smile, Clover crouched and stretched out her hand. A second later, they crawled onto her bare arm, bouncing lightly in place. She tried picking them up, only to feel her own skin. "Kyle!" she screamed, a little bit too loud. "Look at this!" "I knew you were going to like this place." He chuckled, approaching her from behind. "These are 5-D animations. I once thought they were real until my uncle laughed at my silliness."

Zayne continued, every word carrying a fierce, unyielding promise. "Whatever this signal is, it is just a ghost—a stray ping from an unindexed backup somewhere in the dark. You are not alone anymore. You aren't hiding in a dark cottage, and you aren't fighting in a crumbling bunker. I am right here with you, and we will face whatever this is together. Do you hear me?"

“Stop.” We halted instantly. The whisper sharpened— “Wrong path…” “…turn back…” “…survivor…” “…not alone…” Dren clutched his cloak. “Why do these whispers suck so much? ‘Turn back,’ ‘don’t trust,’ ‘stop going down ominous stairs’—why can’t one whisper say something nice, like ‘take a nap’ or ‘free snacks ahead’?” But Mara’s brow furrowed. “No, listen properly. These whispers come from different sources. One is tied to the chamber. One is an imprint. And one…”

"A protective amulet? I'm more inclined to believe that she wanted to use some voodoo magic to hurt people." Following that lead, after many twists and turns, we finally got in touch, through a trusted elder, with an old occultist master living in seclusion on the outskirts of the city. Through the call, we hid a portion of the truth, only mentioning our baby's odd behavior, as if she was entangled with something unclean. The old occultist master, Henry Zaroc, merely replied, "Let's meet and talk." While preparing to head to Henry's place, we continued to trick Ava.

“Something?” He traced her lower lip with his thumb. “My world. The one I don’t bring just anyone into. There’s a place here that I visit when I am here. It is called The Velvet Abyss. It is a private club filled with anonymous people with kinks like ours. I’ve been a member for years. I want you to see it. With me.”

I wandered, fingers trailing along spines, until a thick, aged tome caught my eye: The Rift: The Blood Feud Between Shadowmoor and Nightfang. Curiosity burned. I sat, flipping through tales of broken treaties, stolen land, and one chilling entry about a Luna from Nightfang who was assassinated by a Shadowmoor spy. No wonder these packs hated each other. “I wouldn’t start with the war crimes,” a voice drawled behind me. “The poetry section’s less likely to give you nightmares.” I looked up sharply. A woman leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, expression wickedly amused. She wore combat boots, a half-buttoned uniform jacket, and a smirk that could slice steel. Her dark blonde curls were

They were memories, trying to break through whatever had been done to suppress them. "Mica," I whisper into the darkness, my voice breaking on the name just like his had. "My name is Mica.”

The following day, I ventured out again, determined to reconnect with Brodie. This time, I pushed past the familiar two-mile marker. When I finally made the connection, it came too easily—almost alarmingly so. I refrained from speaking, choosing instead to simply sit in the silence and listen. But the quiet was unnerving. All I could hear was the relentless whisper of the wind, swirling around me like a ghost in a desolate landscape. It felt eerily still wherever Brodie was. I concentrated harder, pushing deeper into our connection, striving to see the world through his eyes.

Its intensity was immense, filling Faye with newfound strength. ‘Let us begin,’ Whisper growled. ‘Become one with me, young witch. The time has come for you to fully accept who you are and what you can do.' Whisper gracefully stepped off the bed and the window opened by some unseen force. Sleek and powerful, she turned to face Mathilda and Faye. The growl that erupted from her, was primal and instinctual. She knew exactly what to do.