God Of Malice Audiobook Novels & Stories

The Gate was alive. It rose from the frozen earth like the spine of some buried god, taller than any fortress, broader than any mountain. Shattered sigils burned across its face — gold and black and bleeding light — their glow pulsing with each of Lyra’s heartbeats. The closer they drew, the more the air bent, humming with the pressure of something too ancient for words. “Gods,” Cassian murmured. “It’s… breathing.” Malachai didn’t answer. His eyes had gone distant, pupils dilated as though staring into two realities at once. “No. It’s listening.”

she breathed. The stone split further. The runes bled into black flame. The feather burned to ash in an instant, its smoke curling into the shape of wings. Gloria’s voice dropped lower, into something that no longer sounded human. A voice threaded with command, with worship. “Awaken.” Malick’s POV Malick felt it before the seal broke. A surge beneath the earth. A shudder in the marrow of the school. The air itself turned hot and heavy, crawling against his skin like fire. The walls seemed to vibrate with something wrong.

Malrik had been right, her awakening was calling them and they would come; whether as a friend, lover,threat or ally. Malrik shrank back to human form, smoke curling from his bare skin, as his golden eyes dimming back into molten brown. No one spoke until Axel stepped forward, jaw tight, fists clenched. “You lied to us.” Malrik’s lips curled faintly. “I never claimed to be less than what I am. You just never asked the right questions.” Axel’s snared showing fangs. “And why should we trust a god who hides in mortal flesh? What do you really want with her?”

I was lost in trance, lost in a world of my own with the sound of my heartbeat the only thing I could hear and feel. But, then again, it lasted only for a few seconds before a voice filled with whimper and pain pulled me out. Rough and harsh without any care. “I…won’t die alone, Vincenzo.” The voice muttered, his voice trembling and filled with so much anguish and resentment. “I must kill your wife. I have to carry out my duty assigned to me by the Italian Mafia.” After the voice, came a hand, filled with blood reaching out to me. Fear shot through my spine as I instinctively crawled backwards, away from the red hand covered in blood.

“Task Twenty: The High Priest is ‘Listening.’ He cannot see you, but he can hear the rhythm of your heartbeat to detect lies. To survive this interrogation, you must synchronize your pulse with Kaelen’s. If your hearts beat as one, Malachi will only hear the shadow, and the shadow cannot lie.” I reached out and grabbed Kaelen’s hand. His skin was burning. I closed my eyes, trying to find the heavy, rhythmic thrum of his heart. It was difficult, his pulse was a war drum, mine was a frantic bird. "You speak of souls, Malachi," I said, forcing my breathing to slow, matching the rise and fall of Kaelen’s chest. "But you’re the one holding a stolen book. That is Northern property."

"And I didn't need a map. I just followed the pulse of the earth. Your blood is very loud in a world this quiet." "Stay back!" Aradaa lunged forward, his mind screaming for the firewall protocols that had once leveled cities. Execute: Perimeter Shield. Execute: Neural Dampener. Nothing. His fingers spasmed in the air, grasping at ghosts. The digital divinity that had turned his blood into liquid light was dead. The pocket dimension had stripped him bare. He wasn't a god anymore. He was just a man with white hair and shaking hands. "What's the matter, little Architect?" Malachi sneered, his lips pulling back to reveal fangs that caught the fading sun. "Did your toys break?"

The other soldiers froze, their rifles snapping toward the archway. "Contact! Sector 4!" Nyosi, standing near the lead Chinook, turned her head. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the figure emerging from the dust. Malik walked out of the shadows. He didn't limp. He didn't stagger. He floated an inch off the ground, his tattered robes snapping in an invisible wind. The violet sparks around him were no longer soft; they were jagged, like miniature lightning bolts, crackling with an entropic hunger. "Kazi was wrong," Malik said, his voice amplified by the cavern’s natural acoustics until it sounded like the mountain itself was speaking. "He said we were a disease. He said we were a plague."

Malignus howled in a trembling voice. - Over the long millennia of studying this world and solitude, I found a way, I comprehended the art of destruction to perfection. I can destroy your essence Malignus. the wolfdog says in a calm voice. His voice echoes off the walls and sounds like it's right in your brain. The vampire writhed in a brutal grimace.

I could feel it even at that moment, a wall of crushing malevolence, compressing my thoughts from all sides at once. An antiquated and ravenous thing that was completely assured of its own virtue. Malachai was not fully dead. He was somewhere in a very bad limbo between life and death, biding his time. His voice filled up my head, direct to brain without ears at all. “Little Luna,” he purred in his repugnantly paternal tones. So much power in one so young, and untried. You: what a sad little whore the Goddess turned you into."

I wanted to laugh in their faces, to spit at their mortal threats, to tell them that gods had no need for bread or water. But then… Growl. The sound tore through the silence, low and sharp, like an animal stirring in its cage. My stomach betrayed me. An ache twisted through my gut, hot and humiliating, a weakness I had not felt in centuries. Hunger. A mortal hunger, crawling across my body like shame. The maids smirked at the sound, their eyes glinting with quiet triumph. “There now,” one of them whispered, her voice soft as silk but cutting like glass. “Even gods need to eat.”