Silent Running Book Novels & Stories

"Back to the sanctuary. It's the only place I know is secure." "And if it's not?" He didn't answer. That silence told me everything I needed to know. --- The drive back to Ashford Sanctuary was tense and quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier than any conversation. I tried to open the book again, hoping something would appear, but the pages remained stubbornly blank. I turned them over and over, searching for any sign of words, but nothing came. The leather was warm under my fingers, almost alive, but it refused to show me anything.

I stood still in the center of the abandoned village, its silence louder than any scream. "Is anyone here?!" I cried out, my voice sharp and panicked, echoing across the empty space. Nothing. Time had stopped. The rain had ceased, frozen mid-fall, and darkness crept in from all directions, heavy and unnatural. Then—footsteps. Soft, cautious, like someone trying not to wake a sleeping thought. "Devin?"

His silence was louder than any words could ever be. His presence filled the room, suffocating in its intensity, yet I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, not without his permission. And that terrified me, but I was too far gone to care. His steps were slow, deliberate, like a hunter approaching its helpless target. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms clammy as I clutched the edge of the table. Every part of me screamed to run, to escape the suffocating grip he had on my mind, on my soul, but my feet remained rooted to the ground.

**Lyra's POV** The silence of the Sanctum was not an absence of sound, but a presence. It was the deep, resonant quiet of a library that had held its breath for a thousand years, waiting for a reader. The air hummed with a low, thrumming energy that vibrated in my teeth, a constant reminder of the immense power sleeping in the stone around us.

"If I were her, I'd probably pretend to be mute and stay silent for years too. That voice is enough to make anyone want to gouge their own ears out!" My desk was kicked over, sending all the books scattering across the floor. Alice yanked my hair hard, then she raised her hand and slapped me across the face. "I'm talking to you, Summer! Your mute act is over, and now you're deaf? Can't hear anyone, right?" I shoved her with all my strength. "Let go of me!"

‘Lunaris. Cassian picked up one ring, sliding it onto my trembling finger, his thumb lingering on my hand. “For every lifetime,” he whispered softly. I took the other ring and slipped it onto his finger, smiling through tears. “And every moon that follows.” Then Grandpa Velen slipped a hand inside his coat and pulled out a mid-sized old leather book. The moment he opened it, the surrounding chatter faded until only the soft crackle of lantern flames remained. Cassian’s hand found mine, warm and steady, grounding me. I curled my fingers around his, feeling his pulse thrum through our joined hands.

He was still inside, probably finishing his drink, probably telling himself that I just needed a minute to calm down. I reached into my evening bag and pulled out the small, leather-bound journal I had started keeping. I flipped to the last entry and picked up the pen tucked into the spine. August 12th, I wrote, my hand surprisingly steady. Tonight, I realized that silence isn't just a lack of noise. It’s a weapon. And Gideon is an expert at wielding it.

"You have me. And we will find the truth, Molly. No matter how much it hurts. No matter what it breaks." We sat in that comfortable, melancholy silence for a long time, sipping the bitter coffee and letting the warmth of it settle in our bones. For a few precious minutes, the world felt manageable again. The mystery was still there, the danger was still lurking, but the immediate terror had subsided into a manageable ache. Then, the silence was shattered. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound was soft, hesitant, but in the dead of night, it sounded like a hammer striking an anvil. We both froze. Silas’s eyes sharpened instantly, the Alpha in him surging to the surface, his gaze darting toward the h

Not hers. Strangers. Countless. Births. Goodbye. Wars. Love confessions. Everything. Then suddenly: Nothing. Absolute void. Mara glowed and ripped the view away. “What was that?” Jonas replied deadly. ‘Forget’. Silence. “Not memory.” His voice trembled. “The opposite.” The boy closed his eyes. “We called it silence.” The name seemed to darken the air itself. The city besieged. Lyra whispered: “Don’t speak his name.”

Then silence, but not the empty kind. Someone was awake over there. Alert. Listening. Sierra settled her back against the wall, pulled her knees to her chest, and stared at the reinforced concrete separating her from whatever waited on the other side. Her wolf pushed against her ribs, desperate to reach it. "I can hear you breathing," Sierra said, because silence had never helped her and waiting for the worst to happen was somehow more exhausting than the worst itself. "Are you going to say something, or are we doing the silent treatment?"