Tales Of The Silent City นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The boy looked at the tower. To the book. To Morrigan. Like he would hope someone else would answer. No one did. After all, he sighed. “The silent archive is not a place to visit.” “That sounds like a place we have to visit.” murmured Noah. “Leider yes.” The boy went through his hair. “Those stories end.” Silence. “End?” asked Jonas. “Not as books end.” His voice became quieter. “They disappear.” A cold wind went through the streets.

And I am the one who writes the ending. The machine died. And in the sudden, terrifying silence that followed, the city of Oakhaven stopped breathing.

The Old City was a graveyard of silence. Buried beneath the crushing weight of Oakhaven’s industrial sprawl, the ruins of the pre-Imperial capital lay in a perpetual, bioluminescent twilight. Here, there was no smog, only the damp, earthy scent of moss and the slow, rhythmic drip of water filtering down through a mile of stone. Saoirse sat on the edge of a crumbled fountain, her knees drawn to her chest. The silver mesh dress—now torn and muddied—shimmered faintly in the gloom like the scales of a dying fish.

As if it knew exactly who had awakened above it. The jailer stopped walking. The silver light surrounding it intensified. Then, for the first time, it spoke. One word. A single word that echoed through every street. Every building. Every mind. "Silence." The chained creature below immediately stopped roaring. The city stopped shaking. The whispers vanished. Everything became still. The impossible power of that single command left everyone frozen. The jailer slowly turned toward the depths beneath the city. Toward whatever nightmare remained imprisoned below. Then it spoke again.

CHAPTER 16-THE SILENT BROTHERS We don’t tell anyone where we’re going. That alone should’ve been the warning. The city thins the farther out we drive — buildings giving way to half-abandoned warehouses, flickering streetlights, roads that look like they forgot what they were meant for. Fog clings low to the ground, crawling over cracked asphalt like something alive. Ezra keeps one hand on the wheel, the other on my knee. Not possessive.

she signed and asked Jacqueline. “Oh! He is Xavier Hills of the Silent Moon Pack” she signed back. When growing up, she had heard so much about the Hills pack family, and she had heard her father saying they were silent but the most feared pack of the entire wolf packs they had ever known. Jacqueline turned to look at the Alpha and then heads to turn and sign to Nathalia that the Alpha wanted to have a conversation with her. Now she knew she could no longer avoid him or his eye contact he had seen her talk with Jacqueline, which meant she could talk to him too without any worry.

When Megan raised her brows, she sighed, "Fine, I had to mute you sometimes because I couldn't really focus when you kept ranting about everything." Vanessa had returned from Paris a couple of days ago after representing her company in a business conference which lasted for a whole month. When she was in Paris, Megan used to call her everyday without fail and kept ranting about how clumsy her tinder dates were. At first, she used to listen to her best friend attentively, consoling her from time to time. But later when she got busy, she used to mute her most of the time. "I hate you," Crossing her arm in the front, Megan jerked her head to the other side.

He felt like a participant in a story that was only just beginning to be written. The streets were empty, save for the hum of distant traffic and the flicker of a broken streetlight. They moved in silence, two shadows blending into the larger, darker currents of the city. Behind them, the safehouse stood silent, its broken door a testament to the fact that nothing ever truly stayed hidden forever.

It was an open, expanding public wound. He did not speak for the rest of the drive. The city lights moved across the tinted glass. Somewhere beyond the reach of the convoy and the statements and the men like Tito, Elara still existed in a silence she had chosen and maintained. The perimeter he had spent years reinforcing now had a hole that the entire timeline could see. And for the first time the man who had always rewritten the narrative on his own schedule was forced to sit inside a version of the story that was being written against him in real time.

Too silent. The city glowed outside the tinted windows as the car slipped through the night streets. Golden lights reflected against skyscrapers, neon signs painted streaks of color across the glass, and traffic flowed endlessly beneath them like rivers of stars. Normally, Nate would've enjoyed the view. Tonight, he was sitting beside a silent Dahlia. And silent Dahlia was infinitely more terrifying than angry Dahlia. At least when she was angry, he knew where he stood. Right now? He wasn't sure if she was planning to yell at him or arrange his funeral.