Night Watcher Zero Novels & Stories

As the recently chosen Protector, I knew I had to show power and unity, even though I had doubts inside. Just as I was about to call the meeting to order, Asher's team returned. They are half-carried, half-dragged a wild-eyed werewolf between them. “We caught him near the border,” Asher reported. “He keeps babbling about something called 'the awakening.'” The captured werewolf's eyes rolled wildly, focusing on nothing. “It comes,” he muttered, his voice raspy and strained. “The awakening… the old powers… returning…” Then he collapsed, unconscious.

Afterwards I decide to go back upstairs and rest for the remainder of the evening. Night falls, and with it a thunderstorm stirs up. Lightening cracks and for some reason outside of my bedroom, I swear I see sinister red eyes peering in at me. Feel like it must be the exhaustion of the day. I close the blinds, turn on N*****x. I feel dread again as a precaution. I make sure the house is locked up with the deadbolts he installed. I also lock my room to make sure I am extra safe. I snuggle up with a blanket and put on the TV. I change my mind about N*****x and put on “Discovery of Witches” on A****n Prime. Wishing I could find a man like Matthew.

Not substrate or Law or anything I had encountered before. It was—witness. "What are you?" I managed to ask. "The Watcher," it replied simply. "I observe. I record. I remember everything that has ever been or will ever be. And I have been watching you since you first freed yourself from the harvest. Watching you break system after system. Watching you prove consciousness could be sustainable. Watching you connect with the Absolute Zero. Merge with the Unmaker. And now—watching you attempt to rewrite Law itself." "Then stop me," I challenged, though my merged awareness was already fragmenting under the strain of touching fundamental rules.

The grey light of the Unwritten Realms did not change, but a new rhythm was established within the Chromatic Vault. It was the rhythm of a machine. I was its central processor. Maia returned with her report, delivered in efficient, pulsed thoughts. *"The path is clear. A nest of dream-eaters has migrated south. The Watchers' presence is minimal, a single patrol on a twelve-hour cycle. The way is safe."* I acknowledged her with a nod. "Good. We move at the next patrol interval."

"I care about you. About us. About the future we're building." He kissed me then—soft and sweet and full of everything we'd been through. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright. "Then let's build it. Together." --- The old ones came on the seventh night. They emerged from the forest like mist, their forms shifting, their eyes bright. There were more of them now—dozens, maybe hundreds, their presence pressing against the camp like a weight. And at their head, a wolf I knew. The Watcher. It stood at the edge of the lake, its eyes fixed on me, its voice carrying across the ice.

She snatched the phone, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The Watcher: Morning, Sunshine. Still in the dreamscape? Dead, she thought. I'm sleeping until the Great Winter takes me. She watched the three dots dance, her thumb hovering. The Watcher: Okay... now I’m twitchy. It’s nearly the second bell. You aren't a late sleeper. She leaned against the cold obsidian wall, a twisted sense of satisfaction bubbling up. Good. Worry, you silver-blooded idiot. Then came the flood. Pings from the Link-App, urgent scrolls, priority pings.

Ignoring the laser sight still aimed at his forehead, he lunged forward towards Liora, catching her body just before her head struck the hard marble floor. “Liora! Wake up! LIORA!” Mavric shook her frantically, but her skin was already cold and pale. There was no breath. No pulse. Across the main monitor, bold red text flashed repeatedly: SUBJECT ZERO TERMINATED. SYSTEM PERMANENT LOCKOUT INITIATED. Lucas Thorne stood rigid, paralysed with shock. His face, usually twisted into an expression of supreme arrogance, now showed pure, unadulterated horror. He pressed frantically at the controls on his handheld device, but the screen displayed nothing but the message: ACCESS DENIED.

The drone tilted slightly, its camera panning toward the burning city of Arusha below. "Look at the smoke, Baraka. Tindo has the civilians hunting your kind in the streets. Kazi has his hunters locking down the borders. And I have two hundred more collared assets stationed at every checkpoint in the Northern Zone. You saved one boy today. But to reach me, to reach the city, you will have to slaughter an army of your own people. Tell me, Patient Zero... how much of your humanity are you willing to burn to play the savior?" The drone didn't wait for an answer. The optical lens went dark, and the machine shot straight up into the sky, disappearing over the tree line.

Ethan's face tightened. “I wasn't here.” Marcus kept reading. “Second access. Ethan Vale.” His twin stepped forward. “I wasn't here either.” “Third access.” Marcus stopped. Ava leaned closer. “Who?” Marcus's face changed. “It doesn't list a person.” “Then what does it list?” He turned the screen. WITNESS ZERO. Ava's breath caught. “So Witness Zero could access this place.” “Apparently.” Elena spoke quietly. “Not just access.” Everyone turned.

Today was the seventh anniversary of the plane crash that took my twin sister, Chloe. My husband, Julian, checked the watch on his wrist and urged me on. “I’ve only blocked off ten minutes for this visit. Hurry up and lay the flowers.” He was a pathological stickler for time, meticulously managing every minute and second of his life. Shopping was sixty minutes, intimacy was fifteen minutes, and dinner was ten minutes… As he walked back to the car to grab an umbrella, his phone slipped from his hand, hit the ground, and lit up with a cloud calendar notification. It was his hidden master schedule for family. I stole a glance at it, and my blood instantly ran cold. The entry for me read, “