Silence Legion Novels & Stories

he weakly uttered as he sniffled softly. Kelvin pulled the birthday boy into a hug. "You're welcome. You're happy, right?" Kinsley nodded vigorously in response. "Good." The older boy chuckled. From a distance, by one of the windows of the school building, someone is gritting his teeth. "Tsk. He's too happy and crying over an effing phone,” he muttered. * * * "The great deaf is here!" One young werewolf announced as Kinsley entered a large room for the monthly meeting of the aspiring hunters, trackers, and warriors, even healers of the pack. The pack members in this group are ages twelve to seventeen, who will soon be given their rank.

I am a redeemer of angels from eternal damnation, and I should try and convince myself that it should be her. As soon as I walked into my residence, I managed to reach for a martini glass and started pouring myself some booze as a shuddering consciousness tried to follow me. The buzzing sound in my ears started to turn into a screechy scream as if it intends to bleed my ear to death. I am trying to look for silence. I am seeking peace. I am searching for darkness. "What causes this to occur? Why is it beginning to happen again? How come I can't do anything to stop it?"

There's something fragile about how quiet the room is. My phone rings. Timothy. I watch the name blink on the screen, and my fingers tap the green button before I can stop myself. His voice comes through the speaker, too high and yet so soft, “I miss you alrea—” I press the red button so fast, my fingers trembling. My father coughs, a sharp sound that makes my blood run cold. Did he hear?

"Maybe cutting off your sister's medical bills will remind you of your place." At the mention of her sister, Nissa's head snapped up, eyes wide, face pale. Tears poured from her already red-rimmed eyes. She scrambled forward on hands and knees, clutching desperately at his pant leg, begging without words. Benjamin's expression did not change. Only the corners of his lips curled slightly, cold and cruel. The silence terrified her even more. She bent low, forehead to the floor, and began to beg in earnest. Each time her forehead hit the floor was harder than the last, until blood bloomed faintly against the tile.

He nodded to me, and motioned for silence. “That print doesn’t belong to one of ours,” he whispered. “And you said none of your agents should be in this area?” he asked Marcus. Marcus bent close to the print, probably checking the scent. “It is not one of mine,” he reported, voice sober. “All right then. This training patrol just became the real thing,” Ronan said. “That’s fine. Clara, you stay in the lead. Marcus, you fan out a little to her right, I’ll take the left. Anyone spots another sign, signal silently.”

I had never hated silence so much before. But silence was all I had now. Not the peaceful or comforting kind— this silence was suffocating. The kind that of silence that settled in a room after a disaster. The kind that came after everything started falling apart. I sat alone in my penthouse, staring at the television on the wall. Every channel was talking about the same thing: The lawsuit Lucian had filed against me. The press conference that had shaken the entire country. The endless stream of accusations he had thrown my way in front of the entire country.

The First Dream broke free from her chains. And from somewhere beyond the collapsing chamber came Lucian's voice. Not frightened. Not angry. Laughing. "You still don't understand, Mother." Evelyn looked around desperately. "Lucian!" His voice came from everywhere. "The Silence isn't the thing we were trying to contain." Evelyn froze. "Then what is it?" The laughter stopped. A heartbeat echoed. Once. Twice. Then three times. Lucian whispered: "It is the thing that was born when Father died."

as a "Cosmic-Error." Elen, deep within the "Foundry-Core," felt the "Absolute-Cold" pressing against the Multiverse’s skin. This was not the cold of the North, which was merely a lack of heat; this was a "Conceptual-Freeze." The Silence was an "Anti-Narrative" that sought to "Level" all "Friction" into a flat, motionless "Nothing." It was the ultimate "Entropy," the end of the "Great-Story" where the ink simply refuses to flow.

The fog crept into the forest like an old, tattered curtain, wrapping around every leaf, every stone, every footprint in a veil of gray silence. The damp air clung to the skin, thick with the scent of earth, moisture, and something ancient—something long forgotten. I could feel tiny droplets of condensed dew collecting on my eyelashes as I walked alongside Merlin. We were both already exhausted—drained by everything that had been unfolding around us.Not a single word was spoken. It felt as though even a stray thought would echo like a gunshot in the thick hush around us.

Lynn stumbled but caught herself, bracing her shield steady. Alexia wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes narrowing as she moved into place. There was power in this. Togetherness. A cadence that flowed through us like a shared current. I'd been driving them harder than usual, half through instinct, half through fear I couldn't shake. And then it came. It was as though air detonated. A scream—not human, not of this world—ripped the air apart. The sky grew dark as though night had burst free of its restraints and descended. Shadows spilled across the training area, and from them. emerged Legion.