Nightfall Audiobook Novels & Stories

The loaf of bread in my hands clenched tightly in my palms as I went closer to the front door. The liandoan salvia reappeared the following morning, this time in a different location. And he was surprised because he had been leaning up against the door when I opened it, and he had fallen to the floor next to me as I opened it. In the narration, the narrator exclaims, "Oh my word, Lian, wake up!" I mumbled something, and I shook him in the area where the bread had fallen, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He had a horrible stink emanating from him.

The Book didn’t whisper that night; it screamed through the stillness of the house. Autumn jolted awake at precisely 3:33 a.m., her heart racing as she blinked at the sight before her. The Book pulsed with a ghostly light at the foot of her bed, its pages fluttering violently like trapped birds, despite the windows being securely shut against the autumn chill. The pendant that hung around her neck, an ornate piece of silver filigree, felt uncomfortably cold against her collarbone, as if it were absorbing the warmth from her skin.

Ultimately, they were reduced to the bottom of the pyramid, stripped even of the smallest share of resources by previous chairmen. If things continued like this, they were bound to face extinction. In my past life, on the brink of death, I'd seen a pair of green eyes so bright, they were like gems. They were beautiful, and I knew that Landon was the only one who had such eyes. He'd charged into the sea of flames without hesitation and tried his best to save me and Tim. Unfortunately, the fire had been too fierce, and he'd failed to do anything. In the end, he had died with us.

The coastal highway was a blur of asphalt and guardrails, a gray smear against the churning steel of the ocean. Nicholas’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his foot heavy on the accelerator, pushing the powerful engine past its limit. The radio was silent, but the noise in his head was a deafening roar—the sound of security footage playing on a loop, a girl in a white dress saving a falcon, a lie unraveling with the quiet finality of a bone snapping.

“If there were a book three, the title would be Dusk?” “Midnight is a transition, darkness, silence, the feeling of loneliness and loss. Dawn is hope, and if Dawn is as successful as Midnight, then the third book will be Nightfall, but it’s not exactly the time of day. It’s a locale mentioned in the book.” “Okay. No more spoilers, T.S. Prince.” “You’re not mad?” “About you being the author, and making me look like a fool?” He chuckled. “I wanna bite you right now, but it can wait until I come back from the trip.”

BOOK TWO: THE IRON BRIDGES Chapter 92: The Rust of the Soul (Jace’s Perspective) Night fell on Aethelgard not with a sunset, but with a thickening of the soot. In the founding ground, twilight was a time of settling. The birds quieted, the campfires crackled, and the deep sight hummed with a gentle, collective deceleration.

The ground itself seemed to shudder, as if the earth itself was responding to Nicholas's pain and rage. His eyes burned with a deep, fiery red, bloodshot from the intensity of his emotions. The sound of his roar echoed through the night, a haunting, mournful cry that seemed to convey the depth of his sorrow and the fury that seethed within him. The night itself seemed to tremble before his wrath, as if the very darkness was afraid to confront the raw, unbridled power of Nicholas's grief. As Nicholas's thunderous howl continued to shake the foundations of the mansion, three distant howls joined in, their mournful cries echoing through the night air. The howls came from different directions, a

The march toward the Standing Stones was not a journey; it was a slow-motion collision. Three hundred of the Nightfang’s finest warriors moved through the Whispering Canyon, their paws muffled by the thick carpet of autumn needles. Above them, the sky was a bruised violet, heavy with the promise of a storm that had been brewing since the moment Aeron drew his first breath.

The woman’s words hung in the air like a death knell, her glowing eyes boring into me as Nathaniel writhed on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The massive wolf whimpered, retreating to the shadows, its unnatural aura fading. Autumn knelt beside me, her breath ragged, her hands clutching her chest as if the pendant’s shattering had torn something from her. The safehouse was eerily silent, the wards now dead, leaving us exposed.