Yor Vore Novels & Stories

He glanced at her and then went back to cutting the carrots. “ About...About us? ” Not understanding what she wanted to originally ask, Frore shook her head. Suddenly, Vayldre's hand stopped working and he raised his head in slow motion to stare her down. Gazing in his eyes, that were still light brown, Frore let out a shaky breath. “ There is no...” He pointed towards Frore and then towards himself with the knife, as Frore's breath hitched, anticipating his next words “ Us ”. He completed and went back to cutting the carrots like nothing happened.

I said softly. Kael spoke slowly, like every word was heavy with pain. "The Faoladh pack lived in the far Voreios long before we were born. You saw the land across the sea—that is the real Voreios." 'Real Voreios? Faoladh?' 'Snow,' Selah whispered in my mind. I blinked. She actually knew that word. 'Ice. Water. Snow,' she added. 'You're not helping,' I thought back, though I felt her comfort.

Vorare was a sorcerer prodigy who dabbled with death when the old sorcery was still pure. He apparently tried to grow stronger than Gaia herself, so he found ways to bind himself to the line between life and what comes after. At least, that was the summary Becca spat out hours ago. She’d said it all so carelessly, too. Apparently, Vorare wasn’t some mindless entity but an embodiment of hunger wrapped in a dead man’s ambition.

Everleigh says looking over to her and Wendy. “You are still linked.” Vor said walking closer to Everleigh. I watch as her eyes dart to where I am before going back to Everleigh. “What do you mean?” Everleigh said confused.

He held a small, silver remote high above his head. "Don't reach for the guns, boys," Voren drawled. His voice sounded like gravel in a blender. "I’ve wired this house with negation bombs. One click and the 'protection' your little savior provides vanishes. The virus is still in the air. You’ll all be ash before you can scream." The room went cold. A don from the southern coast fell back in his chair, his face turning a pasty white. "What do you want, Voren?" Kaelor asked. He didn't draw his weapon. He just stood there, his body coiled like a spring.

her children stare at her like she grew another head. “Vor? Like VOR-Vor? Are you serious ma?” Ava asks incredulously, putting a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee in front of her mother. “Who’s Vor?” Hailey asks as she sets the table as the rest of the family start to come into the room.

Her voice turned iced as i placed my arms around then, reaching to turn on the television. But before then, my phone buzzed in my pockets and i pulled it out to see a reply from Dele— Me: the virus on the radio the other day, we think that might be what killed Wesley. Me: I’m scared, Ayo. Please answer your texts or call. What if i caught it? What if i have covid- Dele: Calm down babe. I’m on my way. And as much as i tried to hide my worry, as i saw his text, my shoulders relaxed. I couldn’t hide my relief. And then Wu walked in with them—

"What is Vyre, the seed, what does it mean?" "It's a creature that existed before our fathers. Legends say it either feeds on your core if you're weak… And plants its seed inside of you if your core is strong." One of the Healer's said as he watched their faces turn white.

v. I turn to look at everyone who all still have their eyes glued to the t.v., everyone seems to be taking this way too seriously, its miles away so it doesn't exactly affect us, I smile to myself, what this lot need is a good show, I look to Acre beside me and notice he's already watching me with a twinkle in his eyes "what you thinking bro?" he mind links me "I think they are taking this way too seriously" "my thoughts exactly, what you got in mind?"

The cracked headboard loomed behind me like evidence of everything that had just broken open between us. He checked the peephole, jaw tightening until the muscle jumped, then opened the door only wide enough to block the view of the ruined bed and my half-naked body with his shoulders. Softiya’s nurse stood in the corridor. The same woman who usually pushed the wheelchair and spoke in soft, careful tones that never quite matched the cold intelligence in her eyes. She held a small medical bag in both hands and wore an expression of polite neutrality that did not reach her face. “Routine check-up for Miss Voronina,” she said. Her voice was calm, practiced. “The matron requested it personally.