Soundless Book Novels & Stories

“The little auditor who thought she could balance the books of hell will be left all alone in the wreckage, with nothing but the silence for company.” The iron-bound book on the pedestal suddenly stopped flipping with a heavy thud that shook the floor. It lay open now, the two blank pages glowing with an inner light that looked like burning embers. It was waiting. The pen, a sharp silver quill that looked more like a needle, sat beside it, gleaming in the red dark.

Elena never imagined that grief could feel this noisy. The cabin was silent, too silent, but her mind was a battlefield. For three nights, she had barely slept. Don Isandro's voice echoed through the walls long after he left. His ultimatum, that ledger, the cruel smirk he wore as if her life belonged to him… it all clung to her chest like a tightening rope. Two days had passed, but her body still reacted to every sound near the windows, every rustle outside. She had locked all doors, bolted all latches, shut every curtain. Yet she felt exposed.

Smelling like dust and parchment. The room was silent. Not even the sound of wandering mice at this late hour. I flicked on a desk lamp, eyeing the obscure titles. Goodness, they had to be hundreds of years old. I lightly touched the spines, careful not to damage the books as I pulled out a thick one that called out to me. Woosh. I turned quickly, my breath picking up as I tried to follow the noise. No one stood in the doorway. The hallway was empty and dark.

📖 ⸻ Unlike every other book… It had no title. ⸻ No author. ⸻ No pages visible. ⸻ Only a black cover. ⸻ The moment Ilyaan saw it… Pain exploded through his mind. ⚡💥⚡ ⸻ Memories flooded his soul. ⸻ The Silent Sea. ⸻ The First War. ⸻ Auren. ⸻ The Second Dreamer. ⸻ And someone else. ⸻ Someone completely forgotten. ⸻

Lightsticks beamed brightly in the darkness, flooding the space with vibrant hues. "Silence speaks for those who listen." Kyle's magnetic voice came through as he jumped down the swing. The music gradually grew louder. "This song tells the story of a boy who took forever to understand the whispers of his silence, finally losing the girl he loves," he continued. "Hope you'll enjoy it."

Something that shouldn't be disturbed in the house of silence, not far from the killing square. Hope sprang in this house, and her tidy walls did rattle with joy. It was the most the house could do, for if she was capable of more, her silver and goldwares, plates, and cups would have left their racks and cupboards to make high-pitched sounds. Beds, sofas, stools, chairs, and tables would have joined in, causing a ruckus to attract attention. But this was a house that was not to be noticed. A house cursed to create nothing but whispers. A house that wasn't a house.

Tumbling in a crashing, cascading waterfall ‘round corners, hurtling downward into sudden calm. The almost imperceptible rustle of shadows clinging to corners. And whispers on the delicate, fraying edges of dream. Voices mumbling. Low. Impossible to hear, to understand. but there, nonetheless. Syllables caught, sometimes, if she were to listen. Yet sleep called, those tattered edges skirted, exhaustion enveloping her. The whispers now words saying There is no book as Eidolon coaxed her from day into dream. ***

Miguel, on the other hand, looked for it on the Internet, in various online stores and auctions. Unfortunately, it turned out that this book had only a few copies and was therefore extremely difficult to find. Most shops either did not know about its existence or never had this book in their collections and only heard legends about it. It could mean two things - either this book simply did not exist, or it was so dangerous that only the initiated had it in their book collections. Maria rejected the first option because she trusted her dreams and gut feelings now even more than before. Therefore, Miguel believed that the second option must be true, and it gave him hope that if they could get

He would show me that he was not someone to be trifled with. I had pushed the limits, and he was not amused. He beckoned his buddies to join him for a drink, but they just sat there, unmoving. The odd silence was almost comical, and Lawrence could not help but chuckle. "What's with you guys? Why the long faces? Come on, drink up! Yoana's just playing games. It's no big deal." He had not hidden his phone call from them, assuming they were concerned for him. "Just wait. In an hour tops, Yoana will see I'm not playing her game, and she'll come crawling back."

The ballroom sound; the screams, the cries of terror, the attempt to muffle the noise, was suddenly cut off, replaced by a heavy, impenetrable quietness that felt heavier than sound. It was a plain hotel study, a place for serious, quiet talks and secretive meetings. Covered from floor to ceiling in inky, highly polished dark wood, the room had a simple, curved marble fireplace and high, built-in bookshelves on which were stacked hundreds of leather-bound volumes that perhaps had never been read. The sole light in the room came from one green-shaded banker's lamp on a huge desk and cast long, tangled shadows that curled like ghosts around the room. The air was still, with a faint, musty scen