A Silent Voice X Novels & Stories

"Don't just shrug, Mr. Silencer. I need you to speak, answer me. Listen, you should answer me, I don't understand this silent language that you seem to know, okay?" He still didn't answer, just kept looking at her amused. "Aaahhh! Stop this, speak something. You know what, you work opposite." "What?" This time he spoke but not for answering her. " Yes, you work opposite. When I want you to stay silent, you speak and when I want you to say something, you go back to being silent. Like before, with my parents, I thought you won't say anything, I wanted you to not say anything but naah, you went up and said everything I didn't want you to but now you are not speaking a single thing when I want y

When she finally spoke again, her voice was quieter. Colder. Controlled in a way that shut everything else out. “Can we just drive in silence, please?”

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

POV: Lucian Voss There’s something I’ve always respected more than loud voices or angry words. Silence. Not the kind you get when the power goes out or when a room empties suddenly. I mean real silence—the kind that settles deep into your bones and makes every breath feel louder than it should. The kind of silence that doesn’t beg for attention… it demands it. It walks into a room and takes control without saying a single word. That’s the kind of silence I stood in now.

Even the Heart came, its glow faint but steady, pulsing in rhythm with what remained of the Moons. Lunara’s voice carried softly through them all. “This will not be a battle of power. It will be a battle of will. The Continuum thrives when we surrender our sound.” Nareth’s fire burned blue with determination. “Then let’s give them the loudest silence they’ve ever known.” --- The Voice of the Silent Continuum From beyond the dark horizon, a vibration emerged—not a voice, but a presence. It spoke directly into every soul. > You have corrupted the stillness. You have fractured the whole. Return to silence, or be erased.

But we needed answers. "Silas, stop!" I shouted. I didn't use my human voice. I unleashed a fraction of the Luna Voice, the dual-frequency vibrating off the iron walls. Silas froze, the blade an inch from the assassin’s neck. His chest was heaving, his crimson eyes wide and wild, fighting the overwhelming biological urge to slaughter anything that threatened his mate. He looked at me, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. I stepped out from behind his shadow.

I watched my nine year-old daughter grieve a mother who was still breathing, and I drowned in the silence I was forced to keep. My knees buckled. I slid down the stone wall until I sat on the cold floor, the Ghost-Phone pressed to my chest as though I could somehow transmit my heartbeat through the screen. Mia’s quiet weeping filled the dark room like smoke. “Weakness is a luxury we burned at the gates of Blackwood, Valencia.” The voice sliced through the shadows, low, precise, arctic. I didn’t need to look up to know who stood in the doorway. Silas.

Sandino: “Money buys a lot of silence. That’s the real flex.” Inside the penthouse the silence was not bought so much as enforced. Two floors down, Raphaël lay awake longer than he should have, the memory of her weight on his lap and the soft sound of her frustrated hiss replaying against his better judgment. He had made the only choice that kept him employed and breathing. He still whispered the same three words into the dark.

“Sila.” There was too much in that single word. Warning. Steadiness. The same unbearable tenderness he kept handing me in the middle of disasters as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I know,” I said softly. “You don’t have to do the voice.” His mouth almost curved. “I absolutely have to do the voice. It’s one of my better skills.” Even then, with the hidden chamber breathing brine and horror around us, warmth flickered through the bond. “Your confidence remains disturbing.”

Another knock. "Who is it?" Silence. Then Max's voice. "It's me." Nate closed his eyes. For several seconds, he didn't move. Then he walked to the door. His hand rested on the handle. He hesitated. Everything inside him screamed not to open it. But eventually, he turned the lock. The door opened. Max stood in the hallway. The party had left his face. He looked calm now. Serious. His eyes met Nate's. Neither spoke.