Sa Yo Silent Sanctuary Novels & Stories

*Silence* . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Anything that would kill her. After some time she was not crying rather she was silent, too silent even her breathing levelled up which was a good thing and Evan was relieved. But Aanya was anything but relieved, she knew her mind was on the loose without a grip. If she doesn't get a grip of it soon she knows her reckless mind was capable of convincing her to do many things. "How are you feeling, estrella?" She stayed silent. Evan realised she didn't want to talk. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"He has a performance coming up tonight. Do you want to go with me?" "P-Performance?" "Brandon texted me a while ago to bring you along. I'm not going to put pressure on you, but I need an answer," he said. " 'Whisper of the Silence,' a song made for you and only you. Would you like to listen to it live?"

"Mum, dad let's leave them alone." Mr. Vance and Kate smiled at me as they existed the room and left us alone. Alexis didn't look at me as she continued staring outside. I walked over to her and just stood there in silence rocking back and forth on the heels of my boots. She was dressed in one of those ridiculous hospital gowns with a cloth wrapped around her head so people wouldn't see that she'd lost her hair. "I love you and I need you to know how much before I go into that operating room," she spoke, finally breaking the unbearable silence. "You don't have to say it back to me because I know you still love her."

The sanctuary was alive. No longer silent, no longer dormant. The ancient grounds of the Saphiren Clan breathed with a rhythm as old as time. Firelight danced along the hallowed walls as ancestral symbols pulsed in hues of gold and crimson. The sanctuary, once sealed in slumber beneath centuries of decay and dread, now awakened for its rightful heir.

The sound of his frantic breaths and piercing cries mixed with the ominous silence of the water, a devilishly beautiful choreography of fear echoing in the air. The earth broke into two, directly halving its support toward him. The tree’s arm on which he hung, laughed like a maniac as it revealed its developed fangs that sprung apart. “No no no...” His voice was hapless and low as he hurriedly escaped the snapping of his arm by the closing fangs. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the cold fate of death embracing him. The silent waters now sang to him lullabies as it awaited the visit of the unexpected guest. Arms stretched wide as the waves swung open the doors of the afterlife to receiv

We sprint. We run past boilers hissing steam and rats that scurry into the shadows. We burst through a rusted door and into the subway tunnels. The air is thick, metallic, and hot. We keep moving, guided by the ghost in our ears, until we emerge twenty minutes later in a part of the city I barely recognize. It’s the Meatpacking District, but underground—a labyrinth of unmarked doors and blacked-out windows. "Sanctuary detected," Echo announces. "The Abyss. Private club. No cameras. Cash only. Signal blockers active."

The house was quiet in a way that felt intentional. Not peaceful. Not calm. Curated. Jordan Elaine stood at the kitchen sink, fingers wrapped around the porcelain edge, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. Outside, the city glowed faintly, and distant headlights, muted sirens, the hum of a world that never slept. Inside, there was only silence. The kind that pressed against her chest until breathing felt like effort. She had learned, over time, not to fill it.

“No scent markers. No trails. Nothing.” “That’s intentional,” Maerith replies calmly. The elder woman moves like she belongs here steps sure, spine straight, silver hair braided tightly down her back. Her presence unsettles me more than the land itself. She isn’t powerful in the loud way Alphas are. Her power is quiet. Patient. Old. “The Sanctuary only reveals itself to those it chooses,” she continues. “And only when it must.” Tristan’s hand brushes mine. Just the faintest contact. Bare skin to bare skin.