Silent Hearts Novels & Stories

“It’s quiet. She can’t reach me here.” Lira and Kael entered behind us, whispering words of reverence, their voices echoing faintly. Lira moved closer. “This is why the old priestesses called it the ‘Silent Heart.’ No mortal or divine voice can pass within these walls.” Damon’s gaze slid to me. “Then we use it. We figure out what she did to you. Here, where she can’t hear us.” I wanted to answer, but something in the air shifted. Wrong. The bowl of light flickered, once, twice, then dimmed.

"I'm sorry, Grace. The forest really isn't safe. I have to find him. I promise I'll come back and finish this with you." I gave him a faint smile, though I could barely breathe through the pain in my chest. He would not come back once he left. That was always how it ended. As he bent down to comfort Laila, I quietly poured the bond-breaking potion into the wine glass. I walked over and held it out to him, my voice soft but firm. "Finish this, and I'll forgive you." Philip smiled and finished it in one gulp. He put the glass down and left with Laila without a second glance.

A final, silent, unified theory of the heart. It starts with the smallest voices. The God of the Squeaky Floorboard lets out one last, confused psychic squeak—a sound of protest, of existence—and is sucked into the silence. Not erased. Absorbed. The Goddess of Sudden, Unnamed Anxiety is next, her flickering presence suddenly stilled, her fear now a data point in the Anti-Chorus’s growing comprehension. The horror is not in the violence. It’s in the intent. This is a love that wants to understand you so utterly it consumes you. It wants to hold the entirety of your bond inside itself, where it will be safe, and known, and silent.

It feels like death, just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments, it chokes my breath. Only Marvis whom I loved so much could be my assassin. It takes an inside job to attack one so resilient to emotional injury. That is my heartbreak. My heart has been shattered to millions of pieces that I don't even know how to pick and gather them so I can mend it.

I’ve been here before… I could hear people talking behind me, I want to open my eyes but it feels so heavy. I am listening carefully but no words from them I could understand. I am trying hard to move, but why I can’t feel any nerve in me. Finally! I could recognize a clear voice. “Mr. Carter, can you hear me?” that is my assistant, Andrea. I try to open my eyes and though I am successful, I can’t see anything. There is a bright light flashing right before my eyes, the doctor (if I’m not mistaken) is speaking to me.

SELENA I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I sat there, fingers laced around his hand as if the warmth of my grip could summon life back into him. The room felt like it had stopped breathing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the rhythm of the fire cracking behind me and the machines pulsing beside him. I poured everything into that silence. Every prayer I couldn’t form with words. Every fragment of hope I had left. Because if no one else could hear me...

Silent. Burning.

♠ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒎� ��𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔.

The darkness beneath them churned. And for the first time since its awakening— The Silence seemed afraid. Ama felt it. Not through sight. Not through sound. Through absence. The same way one notices a missing heartbeat. The same way one notices an empty chair at a family table. Something inside the Silence had shifted. The Last Dreamer slowly exhaled. “I can't believe we never saw it.” Naomi frowned. “Saw what?” The Keeper answered. Every story has a beginning. Its silver eyes turned toward the horizon.

Four soft tones. Like a heartbeat. Like a countdown. Like the sound of something trying to remember its name.