Silent King Novels & Stories

Despite my injuries, I intercepted him, tackling the massive vampire to the ground. We rolled, each trying to gain the upper position. Malakai was stronger, but my True Alpha power helped me match him. That left The Silent One. He stood perfectly still, watching everything with those empty ancient eyes. Then he opened his mouth. The scream that emerged wasn't sound, it was a weapon. Sonic waves rippled through the air, visible distortions that shattered stone and cracked bones. Kael, closest to The Silent One, took the full force of the attack.

Only the calm of a storm that knows its strength. Then, softer, but no less deadly: “Whisper again, and I’ll turn your murmurs into your graves.” The silence that followed wasn’t brittle anymore. It was bent, forced under her weight. Even Silas didn’t speak. The chamber did not snap back to quiet so much as it folded — like a giant leaf closing on itself, the sound of wings and breath muted under the weight of something enormous and final. At first came the smallest noises: a throat cleared, a chair scraping as someone adjusted position to listen harder. Then, like a tide catching on a cliff, reactions spilled out.

The torchlight, the shadows, and the empty hallways all seemed to be trying to scare me. I told myself to stay calm. I was holding the tray of water really tight. My knuckles were so tight they turned white. I did not want to spill a drop of water, from the tray. The door, to Silass chambers opened before I even got to it. Silas was standing there leaning against the window with his hands clasped behind his back. Silas seemed to fill the room and that was really something because Silas was blind. The man said "You are late”, without turning around to face the person he was talking to.

The phantom pain of Kaelen Thorne's rejection was entirely gone, cauterized by Silas's fire. The silence stretched, tight and peaceful, until a low, rhythmic vibration began to rattle against my ribs. Silas was rumbling. Not a growl of anger, but a deep, resonant rumble of complete, undeniable satisfaction. He slowly pushed himself up, bracing his weight on his forearms, looking down at me. The crimson fire was gone from his eyes, replaced by a dark, soft obsidian that held an intensity so profound it made my breath catch. t

The drive back to the penthouse was a special kind of torture. The black sedan moved through the city streets, and every time the car turned or braked, the tight black latex of my suit squeaked against the expensive leather seat. Creak. Squeak. Creak. The sound filled the small space of the car, reminding Silas—and me—exactly what was under my dress. He didn't say a word. He just stared out the window, his hand resting heavily on my thigh, his thumb occasionally pressing into one of the fresh welts from the paddle.

Images rushed at me, blurry, fast, sharp. He tried to scream. His mouth opened wide, throat straining as panic overtook him. Instantly, I whispered beneath my breath, low and firm: “Silencio.” And just like that, the sound cut out. His mouth still moved frantically, eyes wide with terror, but no sound came out. It was like watching someone trapped behind glass, screaming in a void. I walked behind him, and pressed my fingers at the side of his head. “Show me,” I whispered, letting the power pull me deeper.

"Little wildcat. I do hope you choose wisely when that heat of yours finally breaks free. Because once my fangs sink into that pretty little throat... I promise you, sweetheart, you won't even remember the sound of Kane's name." He straightened, let out a rakish whistle, and rode off. The pure white tail of his warhorse swept arrogantly across the cold stone steps. Through it all, Silas had not moved closer. And he had not left. He stood in the darkest corner, where the moonlight never reached. An immovable silver-gray tombstone, damp hood still shrouding his face, the air around him thick with that addictive, freezing scent of bone ash. He was watching me. With a silence so deep it felt lik

​The silence of the cell was absolute, a heavy and suffocating weight that felt like it was pressing the very air out of my lungs. I lay on the cold, sterile floor, Silas’s parting words echoing in my mind like a rhythmic drumbeat. Stop my heart. It was a classic Sovereign technique—the "Death-Sleep" used by the ancient queens of the North to survive the Great Frost or to hide their presence from trackers. But it required a level of internal control and mental stillness that I had never truly mastered. I had always been the fire, the storm, and the explosion. I didn't know how to be the still, frozen lake beneath the ice.

I glare at him, my brows frowned. "She most certainly does. See I pretty much know everything about our students except her. She doesn't talk about her family and nobody at The Academy seems to know anything either. Even the information given to the school after she joined was vague...” He takes a sip of his beer, his eyes trained on me, “All the school knows about the Silent Student is that she comes from a rich family that possibly has connections to the chairman and that her name is Atlas Winters. She's practically a ghost at The Academy. Did you know that her age isn’t even in our system?"

We sit there in silence for a while, waiting for the lights to come up. The place got really quiet, I watched as many people pulled out their phones and switched on the flashlights; the very few moderators that had come, made their way towards the electricity circuit to check the problem. After one whole minute, the lights weren't back but i watched as people visibly relaxed much more and continued having conversation. I feel the very immense need to keep dead silent, It's was as though someone was lurking in the shadows and i was trying to hide from it. "Kids, we couldn't figure out the problem; hold on tight, a professional is on the way." I hear one of the teacher's announce loudly. The p