Echoes In The Darkness Novels & Stories

They’re loud tonight, whispering her name like a prayer, urging me deeper into her world. The dark wraps around me like a second skin as I stand in Davina’s living room, the faint glow of a streetlamp sneaking through the blinds. My eyes adjust, picking out shapes in the shadows—her couch, her coffee table, a stack of magazines she never reads but keeps anyway. I can feel her in this place, every inch of it screaming her name. The voices in my head are buzzing, a swarm of bees rattling my skull. Look at it, Echo. Touch it. She’s yours. Take it all in.

Her expression was distant, almost sorrowful. Before I could blink, the image shifted again — the fountain shimmered, and I was pulled under. ⸻ I landed in darkness. A cold wind swept across an endless void, filled with shards of light that floated like broken glass. Each one flickered with fragments of scenes — cities burning, skies split by lightning, people screaming beneath the shadow of the apocalypse. In the center of it all stood Echo. Only now, she wasn’t a spirit. She was flesh and blood — armor cracked and torn, lightning arcing across her skin. Her eyes were the same silver-green as the storm.

I opened my eyes to the dark. “Then let him come.” Far from Hollow Base, beneath the ruins of the first lab, Subject One stood in silence. Behind him, rows of dark figures rose from long-sealed chambers. They are not clones and not soldiers either. They are Echoes, early test subjects that were rejected and forgotten. Now waking. He turned toward them, eyes glowing violet. “She’s ready,” he said. “And so are we.” And the mountain shook.

Then the lights went out. The Darkened Corridor Alma moved silently through the pitch black, relying on memory and instinct. She reached for her firearm and raised it, listening for even the faintest sound. She heard footsteps. Light, precise. And then Echo’s voice, close, almost inside her ear. “Do you know what it's like to have your whole identity implanted? Your love for Roman. Your hate for Lucien. Your fear of mirrors.” Alma turned sharply toward the sound. “You’re not me. You’re just a shadow pretending to be real.”

A voice echoed inside the dark space I was and I jumped up in fright. I swept my gaze around the place, but I couldn't see any source of light. Where did the voice come from? “But she isn't waking up, doctor,” Another said. “Hello?!” I called out, my voice echoing in the dark, but there was no reply. “Hell-” I was about to scream louder, and this time a grunt blasted through the darkness. “Can't you be quiet for once, human?” A familiar voice echoed in the darkness, and my eyes went wide open in surprise.

The moment he called her name on phone, her whole body went through different shivers. Dissimilar bit similar feelings were flowing through her nerves. She doesn’t have words for them…she wanted to comprehend such feel…but was failed. Her heart was in turmoil but with sweetness. Her mind was blank and her body was numb…after few seconds of pause, she again heard his voice…calling her name again.

They matched the size of the unknown. Godric held his chest. He had the feeling that the darkness would overwhelm him. He couldn't explain how this darkness could be so powerful that it touched even a ghost. The aura of the unknown was so powerful and haunting that Godric took a step back and dropped to his knees. The darkness seemed to weigh on his shoulders, trying to crush him. It wasn't just the young priest who felt like this, the other monks also seemed to have succumbed to this powerful aura. Amon held onto his staff and tried to defy the force, even if it was almost hopeless. "Don't let up!" He kept shouting encouragingly.

This is me. I look down at my hands. A black, swollen web of veins crawls up my arms and neck. My eyes and my throat burn as I bleed from them. I stand up and the inferno grows. The shadows scream and shriek. The spirits that follow me soon echo the Darkness. Alora. Alora. Alora. Iphigenia. Iphigenia. Iphigenia. "Alora!" Hendrick makes the fatal mistake of catching my attention, "Stop!"

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.

When I woke up again, I found myself lying in an unfamiliar room. The lights were off. Only the cold moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the blurry figure sitting beside the bed. It was Silas. He sat on the carpet with his back against the bedframe, looking strangely lonely. [Why isn't she awake yet? The doctor said it was only emotional stress combined with low blood sugar, so why has she been unconscious this long? This is all my fault. I never should've let her meet Eve.]