The Vow Of Silence Novels & Stories

“ Meara!” The whispers started again, soft but notable. I tensed, my eyes snapping open. I scanned the field, but there was no one in sight. The sound seemed to come from the tree itself, from the rustling of its leaves. I pressed my palms against the rough bark and closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. " Come... find... me..." The words were faint but distinct. My heart raced. Was I losing my mind, or was there something more to these whispers? I stood up, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and took a few steps back. The whispers grew louder, more insistent.

The fire cracked loudly, as if in protest. “They called a gathering under the eclipse. And they forged a treaty. One that split the territory in two—vampires to the west of the river, wolves to the east. We would not cross into their land, and they would not cross into ours. A pact of silence. Of peace. An unspoken warning backed by blood.” Ashara blinked. “That’s… real?” she whispered. Zev glanced at her but said nothing. The weight of history was too thick to interrupt.

"That's your problem, not mine. Lionel tried to kill me. He committed assault with intent to harm, and I won't accept any mediation. Save your breath." Rhiannon cried, "Why must you do this? Are you trying to ruin him completely just because we're close?" I didn't say anything and walked away, not wanting to waste any more energy arguing with her. People didn't turn bad overnight, and hearts didn't drift all at once. "It's snowing, Boss," Jane said, handing me an umbrella. I declined it and kept walking. It was the first snowfall of the year. I couldn't help but think back to when I confessed to Rhiannon. It had snowed heavily that day, too. When she nodded, it felt like the whole world lit

Dante’s POV There’s a particular kind of silence that follows violence. It’s not peace. It’s pressure—an invisible weight choking the air. The moment I entered the penthouse and felt it wrap around me, I knew something was wrong. The lights were still on. A glass of wine, untouched, sat on the coffee table. The scent of Alessia’s perfume lingered—sharp, floral, haunting. But the woman herself? Gone. “Alessia?” I called, voice low, dangerous.

But my soul did. Fuck this. “…in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” the moment the last words left my lips, I saw it. The tightening of his jaw. A small, restrained flinch—nothing the audience would catch. But I did. His silence was louder than applause. Damn it. Did he think he was the only one who hates this? Later, inside the suite reserved for newlyweds, luxury mocked everyone from every corner. The room smelled like roses and secrets. But… it wasn’t romantic.

The silence became a second presence. At the bottom, they guided me to a circle etched into the stone. Symbols I didn’t recognize glowed faintly around its edge. “Kneel.” I did. “Repeat after me,” one of them said. “I swear myself to the Forsworn.” “I swear myself to the Forsworn.” “Until death or deeper.” “Until death or deeper.” “To speak betrayal is to breathe poison.” “To speak betrayal is to breathe poison.” “To run is to die. To reveal is to be erased.”

Total silence. Camela’s lips quivered. She wanted to scream and fight back but Vincent’s dimming eyes were locked onto hers. “Don’t say anything,” he rasped weakly. “Promise me.” Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, sealing her lips shut. The book hissed in fury while the shelves shook violently, with blood splattering everywhere. But Camela pressed her forehead against Vincent’s and whispered silently without making a sound. Her silence was her response. And for just a moment—the flood stopped.

Guarding. Waiting. In silence.

Because for Livia— every word sounded like a lie forced into becoming the truth. And at that moment— without realizing it— her tears fell. One drop. Then another. She did not wipe them away. Did not try to hide them. Because she knew— there was nothing left to save. Livia opened her mouth. But her voice was barely audible. Broken. Fragile. As if every word that came out was a betrayal of herself. “I… y-yes…” her voice nearly disappeared, “I do.” Silence. For a moment. Yet it felt so long.

The silence that followed was horrible. Please, I thought desperately. Someone please object. Someone please end this. But no one spoke. The moment passed. "Damon," the officiant said gently. "Your vows." Damon's jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. For a second...just one second, I thought he might actually refuse. Might tell everyone this was insane and walk away. But then he spoke.