All Quiet On The Western Front Chapter 10 Novels & Stories

Zara's P.O.V The compound went quiet at the tenth hour. I had been counting it without meaning to — the gradual recession of sound as the day finished itself, the shift change at the outer gate, the last voices from the main hall, the specific silence that settled when a place had stopped performing wakefulness and simply rested. I lay on the bed in my chamber with my mother's letter on my chest, the blade on the bedside table and the ceiling above me doing nothing useful and I waited for the quiet to do what I had been telling it to do all day.

"Time to come home." **END OF CHAPTER NINE**

--- Memories --- Silence. --- Aren carefully opened the first page. --- And froze. --- For a photo was pasted there. --- A picture of them. --- Of everyone. --- In the clearing. --- The day the door was closed. --- No one had taken that photo. --- No one. --- Beneath it was a handwritten line. --- Handwriting Aren recognized immediately. --- Unsteady. --- A bit crooked. --- But unmistakable. --- > Chapter 1 --- Slowly, he turned the page.

The two journals now — Don's and mine — are doubled inside the account. He wrote: The tenth year is the year of the last chapter. The roses are at the first east wing windows. The foxgloves are at the quince trees. Thomas's grandmother's recipe has been made twice now — the second harvest larger than the first. Mexico City has given the book its necessary darkness. The building is in the fruition phase and is still building.

I leaned forward, my knuckles turning white as I stared at his flawless, aristocratic face on the screen, a toxic mixture of absolute fury and pure terror clawing its way up my throat. "No way," I whispered into the quiet space of my cubicle, my voice trembling as the sheer gravity of my mistake finally settled deep in my gut. "No way... it’s him." End of Chapter 10

Through everything. End of Chapter 109

Chapter 183 The rain had stopped by evening, leaving the city washed clean, the streets glistening under the pale light of the moon. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no echo of gunfire, no whispers of bloodshed in the distance. Just silence the kind that didn’t feel like suffocation but like relief.

Chapter 28: The Price of Victory Lillias’ POV The battlefield had fallen silent, save for the labored breaths of the wounded and the soft whimpers of the survivors. It was a fragile peace, one that had been earned through bloodshed. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the burnt earth and the faint traces of smoke still curling up from the remnants of destroyed homes. Victory had come at a great cost.

He smiled widely and returned back their wave. The horse neighed loudly and finally the journey began! Next update after 275 follow ups.😊😊 I hope you liked the chapter. It's tough to portray the emotions of soldiers. I hope I was able to do so.

Third Person POV The silence came slowly. Not all at once—not as a sudden absence of sound—but in layers, like the world cautiously testing whether it was finally safe to breathe again. Steel stopped ringing. Orders ceased. The distant clash at the border faded into memory as horns signaled retreat and surrender. Even the storm above seemed to recognize the end, rain easing from a relentless downpour to a quiet, steady fall that washed blood from stone and soot from walls. The packhouse stood scarred and broken, but standing.