The 100 Echoes Novels & Stories

The city was alive. Cabs rushed past honking horns, neon lights bathed skyscrapers in color, and laughter poured from rooftop bars into the midnight air. But she didn’t hear any of it. She moved through the crowd like a whisper, like a memory. She wore Alma’s face. But she wasn’t Alma. She wasn’t even Nyx. She was Echo. Lucien’s final creation. His “perfect mirror.” Programmed with every memory Lucien had harvested from Alma’s life, her laughter, her grief, her rage. And rewritten to serve him. Even after his death, his voice lingered in Echo’s mind like a phantom.

It wasn’t physical—it was musical. The melody of the world stuttered, as if two tones had struck at once and refused to resolve. And then she heard it—a hum beneath the harmony, low and wrong. An Echo stepped from the shadows of the valley. Unlike the others, its body was jagged, fragmented, edges flickering like broken glass. Its voice rasped through the air, discordant and sharp. > You let us live, it said, but you forgot what silence means. The ground trembled. Rivers rippled backward for a heartbeat.

Far from Thalor’Ren, in the crumbling ruins of a Crescent outpost, a flickering flame danced unnaturally bright. A figure in a silver cloak stepped into the firelight. Their face was obscured by a mirrored mask, voice cold and sharp. “The Veins are sealed, but the Earth still remembers,” they whispered. Behind them, a gathering of cloaked figures knelt. “We are the Echo,” the masked one continued. “We are what remains. And we do not forget.” In the center of the circle, a shard of crystal pulsed faintly—one that hummed with a resonance not entirely sealed.

I opened my eyes to the dark. “Then let him come.” Far from Hollow Base, beneath the ruins of the first lab, Subject One stood in silence. Behind him, rows of dark figures rose from long-sealed chambers. They are not clones and not soldiers either. They are Echoes, early test subjects that were rejected and forgotten. Now waking. He turned toward them, eyes glowing violet. “She’s ready,” he said. “And so are we.” And the mountain shook.

The air was still cold, the temperature having dropped significantly due to the Echo Wraith. The Echo Wraith is a haunting presence within the Cavern of Eternal Echoes, a place known for its labyrinthine complexity and the disturbing resonance of every sound. It glides silently through the caverns, leaving behind a trail of maddening echoes. These echoes are warped, amplified distortions that play on the deepest insecurities and fears of those who hear them. They take on the voices of the damned, whispering hidden regrets and unconfessed sins, often blending them with a cacophony of falsehoods to disorient and unsettle their victims.

The guards look at me like I've lost it. [Hector, I can't reach you. I'm losing my mind.] [They say if you bleed enough, the person you miss will appear in your dreams. So every night I cut my skin. It hurts, but the more I bleed, the happier I feel—because then I dream of you.] ... Ten thousand messages, all the same unhinged rambling. One thing was clear—Donna's mind was gone.

Echo appeared, flawless and commanding, standing in front of rows of new clone soldiers and several glowing incubation pods. “People of Lagos,” Echo began, voice smooth and paternal. “The so-called rebels have stolen what belongs to the future. Two perfect hybrid children. My children. But I am merciful. Return them to me, and I will spare the western districts. Join me, and your families will know strength without suffering. Refuse… and watch as I take them by force.” The camera panned to show dozens of new clones — all with Damian’s face, but enhanced, colder. Echo smiled directly into the lens.

LORENZO’S POV Echo and I left drunk-but-not-dead Lady in the alley and started heading home. The evening was quiet... way too quiet... until a sound ripped through it. A wail. Not just crying... A deep, broken, chest-torn-open sound that made every hair on my body stand at attention. I froze... Echo froze with me as well. “Did you hear that?” I asked, my voice lower than usual. “Yes,” she whispered. “What do you think happened?”

It wasn’t until we met that I realized it was actually one of my father’s former students and my senior—Ken Morales. We had studied painting together for ten years and even participated in a design competition during college. We lost touch after he went abroad. Seeing him again, I was a little surprised. “When did you come back? How come I didn’t hear anything about it?” “Ah, it’s been a while, Eloise,” he said, clearing his throat lightly. He stood up, smiling as he pulled the chair out for me. “I just got back yesterday. I couldn’t wait to see you today.”

The wind shifted before the first blade fell. Ava stood at the cliff’s edge, the Fifth Realm glowing behind her, the veil shimmering like a torn curtain across the horizon. And from the tear— they came. Thousands. Clad in armor of shadow and ash. Not beasts. Not spirits. But Echoes, corrupted and evolved. Each one shaped by a piece of someone Ava had touched, known… lost. A woman who looked like her mother, sobbing with blood in her mouth.