A Silent Voice Figure Novels & Stories

His lilac irises flared, burning so brightly that they nearly swallowed the whites of his eyes. “A Lunairs heir can’t speak? Unbelievable!” he growled, his voice shaking with disbelief and anger. “A Silver Wolf cannot be mute.” His power slammed into the air like a physical force. He commanded. “Speak! It’s your elder’s order!” A hot surge ignited in my chest, like it was something unlocking, tearing through me with molten force. My throat constricted so hard that I clawed at it instinctively. A faint shiver swept over me as my lips parted, a tiny voice slipping out of them in a shaky whisper.

--- No center to break. --- Only a system that had quietly become something else. --- The air shifted again. --- Sharper this time. --- More defined. --- And then— --- A voice. --- Not the system. --- Not one of them. --- Something new. --- “You’re already too late.” --- It echoed through everything. --- Calm. --- Certain. --- Unfamiliar. --- Adrian’s body tensed immediately. --- “Show yourself,” he said. --- Silence. --- Then— --- A figure began to form.

The Figure asked when The Image stopped. Silence. “Who are you?” The Figure’s skin was moist. “I am your god.” It said. The Figure’s face wore confusion. The only illumination in the empty space; the bulb, went dead. The whole room was swallowed by darkness “Confess me as your Lord and Savior.” “NEVER!” A sudden chill filled the air. “Pity.” There was a thud. The Image screamed. “Stop it! Why are you tormenting me?” “If only you had agreed from the beginning, you would’ve still been whole. But now, you are… below human. Why do you prove to be stubborn?”

I simply wasn’t where I had been. Instead, I stood inside a chamber of silence so deep it pressed against my ribs like a second heartbeat. A vast circular space—no walls, no ceiling, no light source. And at the center, a figure. Still. Waiting. I approached slowly. She turned before I spoke. She was me, but older. Not in age, but in weight. Her eyes bore the burden of knowing. Of memory stretched too long across too many timelines. Her voice came like distant thunder—slow, patient, intimate.

Images rushed at me, blurry, fast, sharp. He tried to scream. His mouth opened wide, throat straining as panic overtook him. Instantly, I whispered beneath my breath, low and firm: “Silencio.” And just like that, the sound cut out. His mouth still moved frantically, eyes wide with terror, but no sound came out. It was like watching someone trapped behind glass, screaming in a void. I walked behind him, and pressed my fingers at the side of his head. “Show me,” I whispered, letting the power pull me deeper.

Not a single chirp but pairs and pairs that they unsure how many of it. Half of a minute, that's what it took for the those in nest to come, silently just their described by their name "The sãlnes" a k.a "The silence". They are very sensitive to sound, very sensitive, as much as breathe could be caught. They would prefer them silence, and then only sounds they love, maybe the ripping flesh and bone. No one know how it's look, that's all myth but maybe some information at this moment.

* --- **The Bargain** The static in me surges, a storm waiting to be unleashed. Eden's hand brushes mine, his touch grounding me. "We're not falling for this." The figure tilts his head. *"You think this is a trick? Look around you. The Silence is *here*. It's already begun."* The trees behind him dissolve, their trunks crumbling into ash. The void spreads, devouring the forest inch by inch. The figure steps back, his form flickering. *"Choose quickly,"* he says, his voice fading. *"Or the choice will be made for you."*

Shadows stretched across the floor, and the silence was oppressive. Then, a voice broke the quiet. “Greetings, May,” it said, smooth and low, resonating from the darkness. May froze, her eyes darting towards the source of the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, lean, and calm, with piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly but edged with defiance. The figure stepped forward, revealing a face she didn’t recognize—yet somehow felt familiar, like a ghost from her past. “I’m someone who knows the truth,” he said softly. “And I’ve been watching you.”

As if the world had only just allowed them to see it. It wore a black cloak that did not conceal its movement, but devoured the light. Its face was not fully visible—only a sharp-edged silhouette, illuminated faintly by silver beneath the hood. Its eyes—if it had any—were as deep as a well that refused to reflect the sun. Its voice spoke only once everyone had tensed. —"Finally." A single word. Yet behind it trembled histories. Elion stepped forward, but the figure—no, the being—merely turned its head slowly.