The Voice Of The Voiceless นิยาย & เรื่องราว

the voice sneered, distorted and cold. My stomach did somersaults. At first I couldn't speak, just breathing rapidly filled the empty air. But I forced out the words with a shaky voice. "Who are you?" I demanded, my throat tight. "What do you want?" The voice chuckled menacingly, sending shivers down my spine. "What I want? Oh, this is just the beginning," the voice mocked. "You should think about all the other stupid things you've done, Sophia. I've got them all."

"You don't control who or what I am." She laughs then—a profoundly disturbing sound that's not remotely human. Not even close to anything recognizable. It's guttural, echoing, multi-layered like a chorus of malevolent voices. Her voice fractures into impossible harmonics, like there's more than one entity speaking simultaneously from within her slender frame. "I'll crush your pathetic resistance like an insect beneath my heel," she snarls with terrifying conviction. "I'll systematically bury your insignificant soul so impossibly deep that you'll completely forget you ever existed in the first place."

It said: I am pleased with your progress. You have grown and appear to be making much wiser decisions. I asked: But what about all those voices, they did horrible things didn't they? The voice replied: It is not my place to comment. You were challenging the course of nature before and now you are accepting the natural environment around you. Now you appear to have moved past that and are not challenging it. You are progressing. I asked: How do you know all this? Where are you? Can I meet you?

The silence that follows is worse. A child’s voice fills my head. Clear. Calm. Too calm. You are late. My chest tightens. “I didn’t know you existed.” Nova watches my face. “You’re hearing something.” “Yes.” “Is it lying?” “No,” I say. “It doesn’t need to.” The voice speaks again. You were born under a borrowed law. I whisper, “Borrowed?” Nova hears the word. Her eyes widened. “What did you say?” “Nothing,” I lied.

Ford's earlier arrogance was completely gone, yet he still refused to give up, instinctively searching for Sonya in the crowd. "Which nurse? What did she say?" Isaiah demanded sharply. "Say it to everyone's face. Whispering behind people's backs and stirring things up is a coward's move." Isaiah's expression was terrifyingly dark. His gaze swept over the crowd like a blade before locking onto Sonya, who was trying to shrink away. "Sonya? You again?! I knew something was off earlier. Mr. Stokes, did you hear her say something to you just now?" Ford hesitated.

Voices layered over each other not speaking but calling, not asking but claiming. Blood struck stone, a circle drawn, and a child was at its center. Me. My chest tightened violently, I couldn’t breathe. A lot of hands were pressing power down, holding it, binding it, forcing it into something small enough to survive. A woman’s voice cut through the chaos, soft but breaking. “Please… not all of it.” That voice, I know it too well, it belongs to my “My mother.” The fire buckled, the voices faltered, and the circle cracked.

It was meant to strip him down. “Take your time,” a voice said. He froze. The voice wasn’t distorted. It was low, controlled, barely above a whisper, but real. Unfiltered. Human. His breath hitched. The guide stood near the far wall, dressed in black as always, mask still in place. But without the modulator, the voice carried texture subtle inflections, warmth restrained by discipline. Elias turned slowly to face him. “You turned it off,” he said. “Yes.” “Why?”

I wanted to confront her, to raise my voice and demand an explanation for her audacity, but when I tried to speak, my voice betrayed me. It was as if my throat had suddenly become a barren desert, devoid of any sound. Panic welled up inside me as I frantically clutched at my throat, desperately trying to make sense of this sudden loss of voice. Tears streamed down my cheeks, betraying the turmoil that raged within me. How could I express my thoughts and feelings when I couldn't even find the words to do so?

"Why didn't you tell me about your problem on day one? I would have spoken louder. I wou-" She shook her head. "That's not n-necessary." "Why isn't it?" "T-t-there's something in y-your voice," she stammered nervously as she gently tugged at her fingers. "In my voice?" She nodded again. "It's h-hard to ignore." "I don't understand where you're going with this." "Your voice," she looked down as a light blush stained her cheeks, "is the only voice that I can hear perfectly."

That sound—it reached inside even him. “Rhea was our vessel. But you, Ivy… you are the key.” The words coiled through the air like silk-draped knives. And all I could whisper was: “Who the hell are you?” The voice didn’t answer. Not with words. The children behind the glass—Rhea’s engineered generation—lifted their heads in unison. Perfect. Innocent. Dead-eyed. Then they spoke. All of them. Together. “We are the Third Voice.” Lucien’s gun was in his hand before I could blink. He aimed at the glass field, his knuckles white with rage. “If you hurt her—”