Echoes Novel Novels & Stories

The Echo The room shook. Ava walked toward the altar, her mark flaring white-hot. The Echo descended like a wraith, touching the floor with bare feet. “You think you’re stronger than me,” she said. “But you created me.” Ava stopped just feet away. “I did. But I’m done feeding you.” The Echo smiled cruelly. “Are you? Then let’s see.” She reached forward—faster than thought—and slammed her palm into Ava’s chest. Pain lanced through Ava’s body. The mark flared wildly.

He crouched in front of me, almost tenderly, like this was some mercy. “Don’t take it personally,” he said softly. “You were never part of the future.” The world tilted. I heard footsteps, or maybe they were just in my head. His face faded in and out like a bad dream. Somewhere far away, someone was calling my name. Lena. She must have followed. But her voice grew faint. Everything did. The ceiling spun, and then… silence. Right before the darkness swallowed me, I heard a whisper. It wasn’t Lena. It wasn’t Evan. It was something else. Soft. Cold. Close to my ear.

Then another. Eli raised his weapon. “More sentries?” “No,” Damian whispered. “Echoes.” The first figure stepped forward, its movements wrong—half-fluid, half-glitch. When it spoke, multiple voices overlapped. “Damian Rowe,” the Echo said. “Welcome back to the seed you sowed.” Eli fired a warning burst. The bullets tore through, scattering shards of light instead of blood. The figure staggered but didn’t fall. “Don’t,” Damian warned. “They aren’t real bodies. They’re projected fragments.”

​We called it The Anchorage. ​By the sixth month, the forty-two Echoes had become the first generation of a new kind of human. They weren't prototypes anymore, but they weren't exactly ordinary, either. They moved through the dense, mossy woods with a grace that bordered on the uncanny, their senses honed by the silence. They didn't need telepathy to understand each other; they had learned the language of the wind in the trees and the shift of the tides. ​I stood on the bluff overlooking the bay, my scarred hand resting on the hilt of a wood-axe. I was thirty-three, but in the reflection of the tidal pools, I saw a woman who had lived a thousand years.

The final guideline was written in a jarring red font. [On rare occasions, the station will transmit the Predator's Song. When this occurs, remain completely still and hold your breath until the broadcast concludes.] Hold my breath? Were they trying to asphyxiate me? I pouted and clicked on [I Agree and Start Listening.] The so-called 'Echoes from Below' were nothing more than just some white noise, like the wind moving through an empty corridor or a massive creature slowly exhaling beneath the water. Rumble. The sound was low and heavy, with a faint electrical hiss like a bad microphone feed.

Clearly, someone was there often to maintain it. She did not forget to bring Dash along. She forced him to kneel and slammed his head on the ground repeatedly. "You owe him this!" Dash cried uncontrollably. In the rain-soaked night, the scene felt eerie and distorted. I stood in the distance watching the entire scene unfold. Somehow, Gemma seemed to sense where I was. She turned around and spotted me, gently calling me over. Dash's head had split open. Blood was streaming down his face. Gemma stood a short distance away, rain running down her face.

Day Thirty. The drive back to the Sterling estate was a suffocating descent into inevitability. Outside the Maybach, the storm continued to batter the city, but the real tempest was inside the cabin. The privacy partition was raised. Silas sat so close to me that the damp wool of his trench coat brushed against my arm. He didn't speak. He just held my hand, his long fingers interlaced tightly with mine, his thumb stroking my racing pulse point with a rhythmic, hypnotic possessiveness.

The fragile melody scraped against the silence, fraying at the edges like it might shatter at any moment. "It's going to be okay," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the road. Zina didn't answer. I didn't blame her. Words had lost their weight a long time ago. **** The cabin loomed ahead, tucked away beneath a canopy of trees that seemed more sinister than comforting tonight. The moon had risen high above the forest, its pale light casting long, silver shadows that danced across the clearing. I killed the engine and stepped out, the cold air biting against my skin. "Stay here," I said. "Lock the doors."

They didn’t hurt, they just *held*, sinking into her skin until moving felt impossible. A shape hovered above her. Broad. Heavy. No face she could make out, just the press of something male and ancient that filled the dark like smoke. It didn’t ask. It reached. Fingers, long, impossible, neither warm nor entirely solid pushed straight through her ribs. No tearing, no blood. Just deep, blooming pressure as they closed around the bright, frantic pulse inside her chest. The Echo. It flared hard against the grip, like it knew exactly whose hands these were.

I said seriously, as i slowly walk closer to the portal which is now still bright. This is the path that we all dream of. Being in the world of Echor. World where we belong. I smiled happily. I am ready to leave everything, I will start again in this new world. I even heard Hygge call my name but I ignored him instead I inserted my hand into the bright portal. I was about to enter when someone suddenly pushed me sideways causing us to fall on the grass. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING !?" I shouted then overlap on him while holding the collar of his shirt but I was stopped when I realized something ..