Shannon Messenger Nightfall Novels & Stories

[Briella]: “Get in.” [Water]: ... [Night]: My friends… farewell! [Day]: See you in the afterlife. One by one, everyone entered the challenge room. Then [Night] popped into world chat: “My beloved fans, remember me! Pray for Daddy when I’m gone!” And off he went—straight into the fire. World Chat: “OMG Night is hilarious!” “I can’t breathe, my stomach hurts!” “He’s too cute to be a hacker!” “LOL! Match One: [Night] vs. [Briella]

Dust fell from the ceiling. Samuel nearly lost his balance. Lucas caught him. “Are you injured?” “No.” Lucas looked toward the hallway. “We're leaving.” Samuel shook his head. “There is no safe exit.” Lucas gave him a faint smile. “That's what they think.” He pulled out his phone and sent one message. ACTIVATE NIGHTFALL. Within seconds, Xavier received it. Across the northern district, several black vehicles that had been parked far from the mansion suddenly started moving. Inside one of them, Xavier looked at the message.

The message arrived at 2:13 a.m. Not through my primary device. Not through Rowan's secured network. It came through a shadow line, the kind buried three firewalls deep, a channel only legacy players and ghosts know how to find. I was still awake when the screen pulsed softly in the dark. Of course I was. The Geneva skyline stretched beyond the glass walls of the suite, all controlled light and expensive quiet. Behind me, Rowan slept not deeply, never fully off, never truly vulnerable.

His faith in us. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you too. Always. Forever. Beyond death. Beyond anything.” He pulled me closer. “Now sleep. Rest while you can. The hard part starts tomorrow.” My phone buzzed. I checked. One final message. From Tessa. From Nightshade. From the enemy wearing my best friend’s face. Seventy-two days. That’s when Project Genesis launches. When your parents wake as weapons. When everything you love burns. Unless you stop me. Unless you’re strong enough. Smart enough. Brave enough. See you soon, bestie. Can’t wait for our reunion.

“Prepare for my coming tonight. You're in Nightfall, and I'd love to meet you in person.” My breath stops. And just like that, I sense him vanishing, leaving me in the void between my vision and reality. Thanox is back. He's really the one behind the attacks. And he is coming tonight. Here in the Nightfall Pack to destroy the summit. It can't be. It can't be this soon!

Not dead, but gone, and that is all he needs to know, that is all he will ever know about how I survived the Danger of Daylight. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We arrive at my future home at midnight, covered in ice, sweat, mud, and bruises. The guards at the gate do not recognize me from the pictures I have sent and don’t let me inside until I show my seal, the same seal every noble holds with them to stop imposters. It is the guiding light that appears every night but hides once a month, carved out of wood, with the crest of our own house on the back of it. An obsidian stone is inside my seal, and the guards fall ov

My vision turned dark, and blood gushed out of my nose. Tom leaned forward. "The internet has been disconnected, and the signal has been jammed. What made you think you could play this game with me?"

One high-frequency dampener at the core. “Ryan,” I rasped, my voice a jagged shard of glass. “Blind their satellites. I don’t want a single pixel of this recorded.” Ryan stood in the shadows, his face illuminated by the blue glare of his tactical slate. He tapped a sequence, his fingers moving with clinical, cold-blooded precision. “Nightfall shroud engaged,” Ryan murmured. “We have ninety seconds before the Council’s back-end servers notice the blackout. Phoenix… if we do this, there’s no coming back to the negotiation table.”

I reached for it with a sigh, expecting a message from my producer about tomorrow's filming. Instead, the notification: "Night Wolf." After a day and a night of silence, his reply reached me at last: "What do you want to talk about?"

The link hummed low and steady between us, carrying the remnants of last night’s exhaustion and the quiet resolve we’d forged in our stolen moment with Tate’s help. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The message was short, cold, and expected. Unknown Number:Signal drop detected at 02:17 AM. Three minutes and forty-eight seconds of lost feed. Explain. Now. Convincing lies only, or the next dose will include a painful reminder of who owns the cameras. My stomach dropped. Callan stirred behind me, instantly awake as the link fed him my spike of anxiety. He read the message over my shoulder, his body going rigid.