Echoes Of The Dead Novels & Stories

"You hate me that much? In our last life, we were married. And now, even getting near you scares you?" He gave a bitter smile and smashed the vial on the floor. "Don't worry. I've done enough wrong. I won't hurt you again. I just came to see you and talk to you." Lillian lowered the speaker, but her voice remained cold. "There's nothing to say." Elton opened his mouth, but a voice crackled through the studio's speakers. Tanya yelled, "Useless! I knew you'd fail. Fine! If you don't hurt her, you can both die!"

Somewhere out there, my son was alive—maybe more alive than anything had ever been—and he was trying to protect us from the thing that had once made him possible. Then the light changed. The shard brightened, spilling warmth across my palms. I felt a spark at the back of my skull, like static whispering across my thoughts. > Dad? My breath caught. “I’m here.” Lena stirred beside me, eyes wide. “It’s him?” I nodded. > You have to move. They know you’re alive. “Who?” > The Echoes. The ones still loyal to the first design. They’re coming. Kira jerked awake. “What’s going on?”

Alexander demanded, wiping blood from his lip as he rose. The man coughed, his body trembling. "You just don't get it. They will eliminate us all." Before they could inquire any more, the man's body twitched, his eyes shifting back into his skull. A moment later, he became still. Isabella gazed with terror. “Is he...?” Alexander knelt next to the guy, searching for a pulse. He shook his head. “He’s gone.” Lucian growled beneath his breath, backing back. “What the hell just happened?”

The valley of Echoes welcomed us with silence. Not the peaceful kind. Not the solemn kind. This silence felt like something had been scraped away from the world, like sound itself had been buried beneath layers of ash and regret. The ground beneath our feet shimmered with ghostlight. Every step left no mark. The spire at the center stood tall, but not proud more like a monument to grief. Its surface wasn’t stone, but mirrored obsidian, and every time I glanced at it, I saw not myself but those I had lost.

When Sohan was done, I turned to Adonis, "How would you feel if you woke up one day, and all of a sudden, you were able to see your own family's deaths? You can't look at their faces anymore. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror. And it all happened out of nowhere. How would you feel?" He groaned, "I would hate it. It would be terrifying. But it's not like you became like this out of nowhere," he seemed quite sure about that. "Wasn't it?" I asked softly, not bothering in withholding my sadness. "You really thought that?" I heard when he gulped. But it was Sohan who spoke. "Was it out of nowhere?"

Pov: Jane Jansen I struggled to keep my eyes open through the pain as it engulfed me. He stood above me with a malicious smile on his face. My executioner. There was no pity in his cold unfeeling eyes and I stared into the cold empty dark orbs as he pulled the lever. The sound of the blade dropping was the last thing I heard while I swore vengeance on them. On all of them. Everything here was different from home. From the people to the smell to the exotic foods they had. It was an experience that made my heartbeat race, forcing adrenaline to run free across my lithe body. Tonya was glad to have me and she showed me around.

The moment his fingers brushed the wall, the room exploded with energy. A shockwave of dark magic tore through the dungeon, knocking them all back. The torches flickered wildly, the shadows stretching, twisting. And then— A voice. Low. Whispering. Familiar. “Did you think I was truly gone?” Aria’s blood ran cold. Alan. Echoes of the Dead The voice slithered through the room like a ghostly wind, sending chills down Aria’s spine. The torches flickered violently, and the dungeon walls groaned, as if the stone itself recoiled at the presence awakening within them.

This was something that would definitely growl back at us. “Explain,” Damon ordered, waiting for a response. Marcus stepped fully onto the balcony, keeping his voice down so the pack below wouldn’t catch every word. “They’re not physical at first. The old texts the elders dug up say the Echoes are... leftovers. Pieces of the very first gods that shattered during some ancient war no one remembers. When the Convergence cracked reality, it woke them. They don’t attack with claws or fangs. They attack with memory. Doubt. They make you question everything you believe, your mate, your pack, and even your own strength.”

She died—if the concept could be applied to a person so thoroughly dissolved—in the act of laughing. The sound was not a cry, but a detonation, shaking loose the dregs of city-matter still clinging to the old supports. In death, she left behind no body, only a looping echo, a resonance so persistent that the next generation would build it into the charge of their own cells. The pack devoured the last of the nursery wall and called it inheritance; the next batch of children were born with tongues that lapped the noise from the air, and eyes that saw ghost-hues where logic said there should be none.

echoing as Malric’s hydra surged, a new shadow rising: Echo, her eyes accusing, her voice a venomous whisper: “You let me die.” The starfield shattered, the void star’s wrath consuming all, Jessica’s glow nearly gone, her companions’ cries fading as Echo’s shadow lunged, a blade gleaming in her hand.