The World Of Silence Novels & Stories

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

Alas, the harder she endeavoured to close them out, the louder they rang with an echo with a vengeance. Black dot emerged in the corner of her eyes. They blinked black and white. They became intense, blurring out the shelves in her peripheral vision. She could no longer breathe and the vicious tendrils of darkness slowly snaked their way around her to consume her. 'ARIA, CONTROL YOURSELF!" She heard a snap. A loud, terrified, and laborious snap. The voice was bordered on pain and it was shaky.

Our footsteps echoed ahead of us, like someone walking the same pace two or three turns farther on. “When I was little,” Sadira said, “I thought valleys like this were someone’s ribs. That the world lived inside a larger creature, and if I stayed quiet enough, I could hear its heart.” “And now?” I asked. “What do you think now?” “Now I think valleys like this are channels for silence.” She stopped, tilting her head as if listening. “Here, silence isn’t absence—it’s a path. If you walk it long enough, your own voice comes back to you. And then you find out if it was ever truly yours.”

And for the first time, Ama saw it. A shadow. Not a creature. Not exactly. A shape larger than worlds. Larger than stars. Something hidden beneath the Sea itself. Something ancient enough to make eternity seem young. The First Dreamer's voice trembled. We called it the Silence. The name sent a chill through everyone. The Silence. Not because it made no sound. Because it erased them. The Last Dreamer closed his eyes. “It doesn't destroy stories.” He looked toward the shadow. “It destroys meaning.” Nobody spoke.

‘Eira, answer me… please' But all I got was silence. A terrifying, suffocating silence. And then nothing. --- The world around me was wrong. The sky above was blood-red, thick, and unmoving like it had been painted in war and sorrow. There were no stars. No wind. No sound. The silence pressed in around me like hands to my throat, suffocating me; the air itself was eerie, and the place looked endless. I looked down at myself. Still in my clothes. Still in my body.

Finally, she remembered that when she was younger, she was able to talk and just be quiet. It was the fact that she had been shunned at the rogue pack not to talk that she had been quiet all these while. Bingo! Maybe if she said a word, they could understand what she was saying, and maybe she could tell them she needed hearing aids and she couldn’t hear what they were saying to her. She opened her mouth, and all that came out was, “I-I-I” Well, that was a start she was certain that if she tried even harder, she was going to get it.

The basement was cold, damp, and oppressive. Stephen brought me only one meal a day. At first, I was utterly terrified, so frightened that I forced my eyes open wide in the darkness, straining to see anything. When a rat scurried by, my heart pounded uncontrollably. As a mute, however, no matter how terrified I was, I couldn't make a sound. All I could do was curl up against the wall, clutching myself tightly and trembling as fear consumed me.

She longed for the chaos of conversation, the rhythm of communication, yet the emptiness remained, heavy and suffocating. It was in the quiet of one particularly lonely evening, rain pattering against the window, that Amara finally understood the truth. Silence was not neutral. Silence was a force, a pressure that demanded action. It was not the absence of words, but the presence of a choice deferred, a mirror held up to the heart, forcing her to confront what she truly wanted.

At that point, I just switched my phone off, no longer having any energy to reply. Meanwhile, the doctor helped me into the consultation room with my medical report in hand. Shaking his head, he said, "Your condition is still quite bad, Miss Palmer. You have to be mentally prepared. Don't let your emotions get too intense, or else you'll…" I smiled and nodded lightly at the doctor as I shoved a handful of pills in my mouth. "Yes, I understand. I've been using this artificial heart for years now, after all." Six years ago, Scott and I went overseas on vacation. However, enemies of his family had set an ambush in advance, and the two of us got kidnapped.

The echo of the forest’s rage lingered — trees clawing at me, the earth splitting, the wind shrieking. Within the blink of an eye, silence draped itself over everything — A heavy, dead silence. Its wifht pressed down even much more, draining life our of me. But with every passing moment that life slips out of me, it feeds this dead silence like a zombie feeds on brains. And so, this silent wasn't dead anymore. It now had a pulse. I might still be a subject to delusion because it felt like this silence had a voice too. I heard a faint hum rolled through the emptiness until suddenly a flicker of light exploded through the air.