Nightfall Audiobook Novels & Stories

And Nicholas felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. --- Three months after the funeral, half the city whispered that Nicholas Rhodes had lost his soul. They were wrong. He’d buried it with Rafe. He stopped speaking to most of his men. Stopped entertaining deals unless they were necessary. Stopped trusting anyone. He worked with perfect, surgical detachment. He ate when reminded. He slept when exhaustion physically forced him. But every night—every damn night—his body betrayed him. Because Nicholas would wake gasping, haunted by the ghost of Rafe’s voice.

The chains had finally snapped, and the Cenotaph was drifting away, its iron spire glowing with a final, satisfied heat. ​"We did it," Leo whispered, looking at the clear sky. "The static is gone." ​"But the mountain is spent," Vane said, looking at the cooling forges. "We're a dead rock in the middle of nowhere." ​I looked at my hands. The orange fire was fading, leaving behind a dull, matte grey. We had won the audit, but the lighthouse was finally out of fuel. As we drifted in the ruins of the High Archive, a new signal appeared on the horizon—not from a Surgeon ship, but from the thousand "Errors" across the galaxy who had just felt the Silence break.

The edges of her vision began to fray, dissolving into a thick, unstoppable black mist as the sheer exhaustion of the night finally caught up to her. As her head rolled back against the leather headrest and darkness completely swallowed her consciousness, the last thing she heard was the frantic, deeply worried vibration of his voice echoing through the quiet cabin. "Just hold on, Seven... please, just hold on!"

There at the center of every gaze, he'd forgotten even to set the letter knife down. He opened his mouth, wanting to call my name. But only a broken rasp of air came from his throat. A mouthful of blood surged out, spattering across those scraps of pure-white gown. A ghastly sight. Amid the horrified screams of the whole hall, he collapsed in the church he'd decorated himself. This wedding that no one attended ended, in the end, as a farce. And I, far away in the polar region, was recording the first set of data sent back from the deep sea.

The ground shook, and the sound of the insides of the mountain falling apart rumbled through the entryway. “This is it,” Jo thought to herself. “This is the disaster I knew was on the horizon.” Even though they all believed her aunt wasn’t capable of dying, it certainly seemed now like perhaps they had made a mistake, and she was vulnerable to death, just like everyone else. As the rumbling increased, Cassidy’s IAC went to black, and there was no way of contacting her. In Jo’s experience, that usually meant the worst had happened.

I shaked violently,as soon as I did, I felt him pour in me. He rolled off me ,mye became blurry.. "I love you Michael"I told him exhaustedly. I thought he didn't hear me...I just fell into a deep slumber. "I love you Natty" I heard him say but I was already asleep.

Somewhere in the night, overhead, August heard the squawk of a bird, a crow perhaps, maybe two. “You want to know?” The man wailed. “I will tell you! I will tell you all!” August listened to the man’s words as he spoke so furiously, spittle flew from between cracked lips in Latin. Rufus had fallen asleep at the feet of the opposite side of the tree, but awoke and joined August as the Pict spewed the words. August stepped backwards, reeling when the man’s tale was concluded. The man on the cross started to laugh.

CHRISTINE Sleep didn’t come easily that night and every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same thing again. The document Kael had pushed across the desk, the search notice, my name printed clearly beneath the description and the quiet certainty in his voice when he said Moonfall was a difficult city for someone without allies. I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling of my room. Nathan was asleep in his own room already and I could hear his faint snore earlier, but sometime during the night even that sound had disappeared beneath the restless noise in my head.

Neil stepped back, but then he saw something written on the floor—the same line he had seen in the register earlier: ‘When the last story is told, the session will be complete.’ He asked, “Sir, if I finish the story, will everyone return?” Raghavan smiled. “Every voice returns, Neil… but the speaker never does.” Neil opened the register and began writing the final line with his pen: ‘The last lecture of the night has ended.’ The moment he finished writing, the entire building trembled. The doors shut on their own. Glass cracked. A whisper echoed through the air:

The landscape was alien and foreboding, a surreal amalgamation of shifting shadows and fragmented structures that seemed perpetually on the verge of collapse. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, broken only by the occasional whisper of forgotten memories. Each whisper was like a ghostly touch against her skin, a fleeting sensation that left her shivering. The whispers were disjointed, fragments of conversations, cries, and laughter that seemed to echo from the very walls of Nyxterra. They whispered her name in haunting, fragmented tones, urging her deeper into the darkness.