Echoes And Shadows Novels & Stories

I spun around, searching the empty corridor and for just a moment I could have sworn I saw a shadow move in the darkness at the far end, could have sworn I caught a glimpse of a face I knew too well. "Aria," Evan's voice came from somewhere in the darkness, distorted by distance and acoustics but unmistakably his. "I know you're there. I can feel you even if I can't see you. That's new, by the way. The invisibility. I'm impressed." My heart hammered against my ribs as I stood frozen, invisible but suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being seen. "What else have you learned to do?" Evan continued, his voice moving, circling.

That night, the shadows in Coldclaw Manor seemed darker than usual. Eva couldn't help but feel the pressure closing in as she followed Ryder through the labyrinth of hallways, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath her boots. The mansion, with its cold stone and dark corners, felt like a living thing, watching, listening.

I could feel every thud in my throat. He looked past me at Echo. “And you? Still pretending you’re anything more than her shadow?” Echo’s jaw tightened until the muscle jumped. “I’m no one’s shadow.” Her voice was sharp, a blade unsheathed. Subject One chuckled in a low, humorless sound. “You’re all shadows. The Council cut the mold in the same place, over and over, until even they couldn’t tell you apart. But I can.”

"Make her swallow this. It'll sap her strength and make her cooperate." Lillian stared at the pill in horror, scrambling back. Suddenly, Elton's voice cut through. "Jill, are you there?" Lillian thrashed, muffled cries escaping the rag, hoping to draw him over. The hooligan panicked, shoving the rag deeper in a hurry. Elton caught the noise and started toward them. "Jill, is that you?" "Shit, he found us," groaned the hooligan. "Damn it," Jill cursed under her breath. "I forgot the tracker on my phone."

"Tonight is about celebrating the harvest. They are going to show us exactly what it looks like when three souls share the exact same breath." A sudden, melodic chime echoed through the room’s sound system, followed by the slow, rhythmic pulse of a deep, atmospheric bassline. The ambient chatter of the crowd died instantly. The suspense in the room spiked, a tangible, physical pressure that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. From the shadows at the back of the room, they emerged.

He had a subtle sense of humor when he let it show. Then the lights flickered once. Twice. And went out completely. The archive room plunged into total darkness. The sudden blackness hit like a wall. Grace couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. “Miles?” she called out, her voice echoing a little in the big room. No answer at first. Then she heard his breathing; fast and shallow. “Miles, are you okay?” A chair scraped. She heard him moving, then a soft thud like he had backed into a shelf.

The air was still. ​“I don’t see anything, Cassian,” I whispered. ​“It’s not in the air,” he said, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade. “It’s in the echo. Something is mimicking our footsteps. It’s a shadow that doesn’t belong to us.”

Below them, the plaza seemed to exhale… not with silence, just a different quality of noise, confused and blinking, like a crowd waking up mid-sentence and trying to remember what they had been saying. Then every alarm in the tower started screaming at once. Echo's voice filled all three of their minds simultaneously, untroubled, almost amused. You can turn off the signal. You can't turn off what you taught them to want.

"I'd wish you luck, but luck has nothing to do with what's about to happen." "Comforting." She handed me the tea. "Drink it all. You'll need the energy." I drank. The tea was bitter and hot and did nothing to settle my nerves. --- The Hall of Echoes was different at night. The faces on the walls were more active. They writhed and pressed against the stone like drowning swimmers desperate for air. The whispers were louder too. Not words yet. Just the shape of words. The pressure of a thousand dead voices waiting to be heard.

Even if the souls of the corpses in the graves have left the Earth, one thing remained that contributed to the awakening of these creatures. Echoes. Without word, they moved in groups toward a single cardinal direction as if they are commanded by a single hive mind but, in truth, were directives long imprinted in their minds. The grass beneath them tickled their taloned feet. To them, the sensation was strange but they paid no heed because the current task mattered for now. Coldness bit into their unprotected skin like a violating kiss. Most of them are nude with some possessing little to no coverings at all but the temperature did not bother them at all.