The Silent Waters Novels & Stories

The soothing sound of water cascading from the fountain was inviting. I walked over to the bench and took a seat. The gentle, rhythmic sound of the water was so relaxing and soothing that I didn't notice myself drifting off to sleep. The weariness of the journey, combined with the peaceful ambiance of the garden, was too much for my tired body to resist.

On this silent night, I can hear my silent cries the loudest. 🔸🔸🔸

I whispered to them They crackled softly, and for the first time, I thought maybe… they didn’t know the answer either --- Later, while the others slept, I walked to the river The water was dark and unmoving. No moonlight reached its surface, though the sky was clear I knelt beside it and let my fingertips skim the edge Cold Still Then— A flicker Not of fire Of shadow It moved beneath the water’s surface like ink spilled in silence I yanked my hand back The shadow didn’t follow It simply watched And then it spoke—not aloud, but in the place between heartbeats You were never meant to carry only one flame

The "Eraser Wave" was not a wall of water or fire, but a wall of absolute silence that moved through the vacuum at a fraction of the speed of light. As it approached Aethelgard, the vibrant azure sky began to bleed into a dull, necrotic grey, and the liquid quartz oceans beneath us started to simmer with a frantic, jagged energy. I stood at the primary resonance console of the First Mother’s Breath, my Tempered Heart drumming a steady sixty beats per minute, a rhythm I had to maintain as the universal metronome for the entire planet.

"We fought for the 'Silence'! We fought to be 'Real'!" "But 'Real' is 'Heavy', Avery-Node," a woman replied, her voice sounding muffled, as if she were speaking through water. "The 'Silence' is a 'Void.' The 'Hydro-Symmetry' is a 'Cradle.' We don't want to be 'Finite' anymore. We want to be 'Deep.'"

The Wrong Vow, My Perfect Match Chapter 183: I Remember Your Name “I remember your name.” The words crossed the Sea like light. Not loud. Not powerful. Yet the effect was immediate. The eye beneath the horizon flinched. Actually flinched. For the first time since its awakening, the Silence reacted. The silver waters surged. The darkness pulled back. Only slightly. But enough. Enough for everyone to see it. The Last Dreamer's face drained of color.

POV RUBY The Siren’s Wake cut through the choppy black waters of the Irish Sea like a blade. Behind us, the fiery orange glow of the Docklands was nothing more than a bleeding scar on the horizon. The roar of the engine was a constant, low-frequency thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and up into my very bones. Silas was at the helm, his silhouette a grim statue against the spray-flecked glass of the cabin, leaving Nevan and me alone in the cramped, dimly lit quarters below deck.

Because I am removing something invisible. The performance. The act. The role. I wash my hands longer than necessary. Long enough to feel clean again. I stare at the water running over my skin. Steady. Controlled. Just like me. “They always talk too much,” I whisper. The words come out before I can stop them. But they are true. Men always talk too much. They underestimate silence. They mistake quiet for weakness. They mistake stillness for ignorance. They mistake me. And that is their mistake.

Every breath was a shard of glass in my throat. My ribs were broken. Bloody foam frothed at my lips, staining the white marble crimson. "Can't you just be quiet? Do you want to drive her insane?" My father, Victor, roared so loud the whole mansion seemed to shake. I wanted to tell him it was an accident, but my throat was full of blood. I couldn't make a sound. By the shattered glass table, my sister, Chloe, was curled into a ball, hands clamped over her ears, letting out a piercing scream.