Silent War Kingdom Novels & Stories

Then the throne's voice returned. Only this time— it sounded afraid. THE TRUE KING HAS RETURNED Silence. Complete silence. Then Aurelius smiled. Then looked toward the Citadel. Then: "At last." The king took a step. And the entire Forgotten Kingdom bowed. To Be Continued...

And a cold voice whispered from the shadows. “Game over? Not yet.” The door slammed shut behind us. The real fight had just begun. The cold, heavy silence in the room was suffocating. The darkness wasn’t just the absence of light—it was a presence, a suffocating weight pressing down on me and Justin like an invisible hand trying to crush our spirits. To be continued...

Every heartbeat sounded too loud in the thick, dark silence. Rowan’s hands gripped the poker so tightly that his knuckles ached. “Stay close. Stay silent. Stay together,” he whispered, his voice low and firm. “He wants a reaction. Don’t give him one.” Sierra buried her face in his chest. “I… I can feel him,” she whispered. “He’s here… I can feel him!”

Nathan’s jaw tightened. Silas gently pulled his wrist free and resumed cleaning the blood on his cheek. “You want to survive this?” he asked. “Then stop charging at lions like you’ve already won.” Nathan clenched his fists. “I won’t submit.” “I’m not asking you to,” Silas said, dabbing carefully at the cut on Nathan’s lip. “I’m asking you to strategize.” Silas leaned back slightly, meeting Nathan’s eyes with solemn weight. “Kings don’t win by shouting louder. They win by choosing when to be silent.”

Smoke filled the room. Through the haze, Silas White emerged older and more cunning, surrounded by a group of fully armed mercenaries. Next to Silas stood a man whose face was very similar to Mavric’s but older and scarred Miles Thorne. "Well, look at the happy couple," Silas said in a raspy voice that made Liora feel sick. "Liora, my dear daughter... you’ve played house with young Master Thorne long enough.” “Now it’s time to hand over the kingdom’s key to your father."

She argued that with vampirism, witchcraft, and senses of werewolves combined, we will be indestructible. “Niklaus was made with witch powers! Powerful with powers at that! And you think a bite from him would produce the same results?” Lucianna screamed once again, seeking for the attention to be diverted to her. I hid my claws when I saw my aunt averted her gaze to my cousin, Lucianna. I immediately sat beside Natyaramona and assisted her into standing up. Her breaths were heavy and sharp, panting and almost begging for the last of it.

The warmth beneath it wasn’t just magic; it was alive. “You’re still there,” he murmured. Sybil stood beside him, staff anchored in the ground. “It’s quieter now. She’s done what even the ancients couldn’t.” Nella approached, her face pale with awe. “You saw her? Inside?” He nodded slowly. “She fought something older than the King. Something that claimed to be the first throne.” Sybil’s eyes widened. “The Silence… that was supposed to be a myth.” “It isn’t,” he said grimly. “It spoke like it had seen every age come and go. But she faced it—and she rewrote it.”

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?"

The man bellowed, and the roar of the crowd heightened to an almost deafening level as they chanted the last statement of their king. "A whole horde?" Genie questioned in a frantic whisper as her livid green eyes locked with mine. "Ari, I feel like we should be worried about this one. Like, don't get me wrong, I know he's a total badass and all, but a whole horde of enemies when he's by himself?" I could see the fear in those bright eyes; it was the same fear that was burning a hole in my gut, but now was not the time to show that fear.

The end of the world smelled of sulfur and crushed violets. Princess Saoirse, the last true blood of the Dragon Kings, stood before the cracked vanity mirror in the servant’s quarters. Her hands trembled violently as she destroyed her birthright. The paste—a foul mixture of river mud, crushed walnut shells, and soot—felt cold and slimy against her scalp. Outside, the sky was bleeding. The Dragon Kingdom of Aethelgard, a realm of glass spires and singing winds, was dying. It wasn't dying quietly. It was screaming under the iron treads of the Empire’s war machines.