Disquiet Gods Audiobook Novels & Stories

That being said and outlined as disastrous, I have been able to come up with a blind argument that supports the notion that all humans are subject to their own emotions and feelings, and are ready to ensure that their own desires are fulfilled no matter what is at stake. Down at the back of my mind, a stream of thoughts kept a steady flow, bearing debris of thoughts which crashed into one another as if they could no longer survive the torture involved in maintaining a single file for a long period of time. The flow grew in viscosity, the debris growing in turning grey without attracting unnecessary attention or asking for unwanted permission from the owner of the mind which was me. Gradually

The unmistakable sounds of lovemaking filled the air. Don froze, his face going pale as he turned toward Fiona in disbelief. The guy clapped his hands. "If you all wanna see the uncensored video, scan the code and join the group chat! It's free!" One of his goons held up a big piece of paper with a giant QR code printed on it. The crowd rushed over immediately. Within minutes, a bunch of young guys were squatting on the ground, grinning as they watched the video on their phones. The moans and gasps echoed through the crowd, making Fiona's face flush a deep red.

To anything that answers. My voice shakes. “And something will.” Something already has. I felt it then. A foreign presence brushing the edge of the bond. Curious. Hungry. I snap, “Get out of my head.” The presence recoils, amused. Kieran,I whisper urgently. That thing is listening. I know,he says. It’s been waiting longer than the Goddess ever ruled. Betrayal slices through me. “You said the old gods were sealed.” They were,he replies. By belief. And belief is breaking.

“Prophecy failed. Flame burned too bright. The god slept… but the Unnamed remains.” They raised their hands to the stars. And one by one, they whispered something impossible: “We remember… what even god forgot.” And in the woods behind them—A second circle burned. But it didn’t glow, it devoured light. “Even silence has a voice. You only hear it when memory fails.” She sat alone again in the basin chamber, listening. The silence was no longer peaceful. It pulsed, and then, it spoke. Not in words. Not the god’s whisper, but in something beneath even memory.

Kai: The scriptorium was too quiet. Too still. Too alive. Magic hummed beneath the floor, like the pulse of a dying god—slow, arrhythmic, but refusing to fade. The stone walls seemed to breathe with it, exhaling dust and grief, whispering secrets I didn’t want to hear.

The woman swallowed. For the first time since appearing, she looked genuinely afraid. "Ashrael is the reason gods stopped answering." Nobody spoke. Nobody even breathed. Because deep beneath the city, something enormous shifted in the darkness. And somewhere inside the black spire, a distant sound echoed through the crimson night. A heartbeat. One single heartbeat. The first in countless ages. :::

Chapter 14 “There are those who are afraid of the dark, not just because it’s dark, but because of what’s inside the darkness.” — Timothy Long JORDAN POV “And then another one bites the dust. Hell must be freezing and demons fleeing with the way everyone is just getting hooked. Tell me, what in the world is going on? Is the earth running out of women or something?” Quin drawled smoothly before winking at me, the glass of whiskey lingering on his lips for a moment.

"Darius! Look at the chamber!" I opened my eyes. The red mist wasn't imploding. It was changing. The violet light was turning gold. "The audit is closed," Iris whispered, her eyes glowing with a faint, reflected light. "I didn't fix the formula, Darius. I gave it back to the wolves." Outside, a hundred howls rose in unison. Not the mindless twitching of the infected, but the raw, powerful cry of the pack. The Quiet Ones were waking up. And they were very, very angry.

THE heavens never spoke in whispers. They roared. Kael knelt at the edge of the celestial dais, his skin stripped of its golden glow, blackened now with the mark of divine betrayal. The air around him shimmered with judgment, each breath thick with the rancid stench of mortality. Above him, the gods loomed, their faces carved from the cold light of eternity. Their eyes held neither pity nor forgiveness—only a cruelty as infinite as the stars. “You, the god of storms, who once commanded the skies,” boomed the All-Father, his voice rattling the cosmos, “have desecrated the sacred laws. You dared to love what is beneath us. A mortal. A fleeting ember among our eternal flame.”

He presses play, and the sound rumbles to life by my ear, sending ripples of cozy warmth through my body. In the distance I can hear Henry recounting the entire tale to Sinclair, but I find myself dozing nearer and nearer to sleep, floating on the waves of the drug and my mate’s purrs. I hear the far-away sounds of their astounded discussion, about the God of darkness, the unknown history when wolves and humans openly lived together, and my role in this war. There are too many details to focus on all at once, and the conversation flits around erratically. I can only sigh and snuggle deeper into the sofa cushions.