No Sound But The Wind Novels & Stories

Wave representing things to come, kid, he said. Lawrence gave him a hard gaze. Alright, theres an unsonorous specialized term for it- - separating - yet to me, three-D sounds considerably more tomfoolery. Chi dove inside the dim passage and enticed her with a slanted finger. Trust me, youll love it. Noah set it all up. Wind tore across his body. The sun felt close against his skin. He was endlessly running and had no clue about where he was. Hed burst from the Announcer without knowing, and however it felt right in pretty much every manner, something pestered at his memory. Something was off-base.

The wind poem she came up with was written as such: Whispers Soft voices the wind carries How far will they go? Those words ever be heard Caresses the trees’ leaves, its skin the green grass What does it say? No one knows Can you hear it? Who will hear it? The words so soft It rustles the dirt passing by creatures above and below flowing through the air Where will it go? Does no one hear it? Those forgotten whispers Whose are they?

The cicadas sing to the full moon as I stir, unable to completely fall asleep. I’d forgotten how beautifully annoying these things were. Even with jet lag falling asleep is difficult. Hmm... that’s not a cicada. Stirring again, I reached my phone as the screen lit up, my ringtone blaring into the silent room. It’s after Three AM right now... “... who the hell is calling at this...” Oh. My annoyance crumbles and a smile plasters across my face at the caller ID.

"It’s not just gone. It’s quiet." Outside, in the distance, they could hear it—not the humming of a grid, but the sound of the wind, rushing through the broken windows of the Spire, singing of a world that was, finally, awake.

The Hollowing Wind They heard it before they saw it. The wind didn’t howl. It whispered. A low, circular murmur—like someone breathing into their ear from miles away. Every gust carried not cold, but memory. Fragments of voices. Laughter turned to screaming. Screams turned to silence. Maya tightened the cloak around her shoulders. The dagger hung heavy at her hip now, its metal slick with oil and blood. The Testament pulsed like a wound in her satchel.

It lasted briefly, then following after was a strong rush of wind that felt like it was prickling at my skin. We lay on the ground for a while, enduring the terrible winds that lasted quite a long time. “Eugh… Rohan? Are you…alright?” I try to lift my head, but I don't get an answer. Rohan's arms continue to hug my head, pressing it down. “Stay still.” "… I'm sorry." I heard a long buzzing sound, like a wolf's howl in a cave, as Rohan's hand started to loosen from my ear. I'm not sure how long I've heard this kind of howling, but it seems to be getting farther away.

The Wolf sighs like a man settled into a couch. I hear something far. Tires? No. Wind. No. The river talking to itself. Sound comes and goes like radio through rain. I tilt my head toward the door anyway. The Wolf turns my ears the way he wants, like they’re dishes catching signals. He doesn’t hear what I think I heard. He hears his own want returning to him from the corners.

The wind carried her voice away. It swept through the golden city, over rivers and plains, rising into the cold expanse of sky until it reached the mountains. By the time the echo arrived, it was no longer words, only sound, a tremor that moved through stone and snow, soft but unyielding. Seraphina heard it before she understood it.

The world outside the mountain was too loud. It wasn't the sound of birds or wind or distant animals. After the deep, resonant hum of the living stone, the outside world was a cacophony of emptiness. The wind didn't sing; it whined, scraping across bare rock. The few birds they saw were silent, their flights quick and furtive. The air itself felt thin, devoid of the rich, mineral-scented life they had breathed for so long.

The world felt fragile, like a story written in wet ink. When the wind shifted, I heard it: a faint crackle, almost beneath hearing. It was the kind of sound you’d miss if you didn’t know what silence was supposed to be. “Do you hear that?” I asked. Lena paused mid-bite. “Hear what?” The static came again, brief but distinct—a pulse through the empty streets, like a whisper trying to form words. My chest tightened. It was impossible, yet unmistakable. I rose slowly. “Stay here.”