Till We Have Faces Audiobook Novels & Stories

he lamented before ending the call when I didn’t say a word. While I was trying to think if I had heard the name before or it was completely unfamiliar, I stared at Vector because he had also heard the voice. “That voice is fucking familiar,” Vector stated firmly and with confidence. My heart skipped a beat; that was a start. “I think I know what we should do,” Vector added.

“But the Foundation—they don’t run from fire. They just change the temperature.” Then, all across the city—thousands of people, just saved—everyone stopped breathing at once. No one screamed. No one collapsed. Instead, every head turned north. Their eyes didn’t glow gold. Or purple. They glowed flat, empty white. A new voice, huge and cold, filled the air. Not Silas. Not the computer. It was billions of voices, from other floating cities, speaking as one. “The yeast has risen,” the voice said. “The bread is ready for the oven.”

The news hit Mom hard, and her face turned deathly pale in an instant. Her fingers trembled against the doorknob. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Only after a long moment did she snap back to reality. Her eyes were bloodshot as she rasped hoarsely, “What did you just say? Who’s dead? Daisy? No, that’s impossible… That girl is tough. There’s no way she’d die!” The police fell silent for a moment, looking at her with sympathy.

But he kept his back to her, never showing his face. She found his back familiar nonetheless, but her vision was still blurry. When she tried to approach him, he started to walk away from her. Eventually, panting after a long pursuit, he stopped too. "Who… are you?" Lisa wheezed, her voice cracking. He never moved and remained silent. Then, suddenly, he vanished. Lisa jerked awake right then, covered in cold sweat. She immediately saw the white hospital ceiling, and her nostrils were filled with the scent of antibiotics.

I hit the cabin door with my full weight and the wood splintered inward, shards flying across the floor. “Kaye!” The cabin was empty. No Kaye. No Jared. No warmth. No scent that made sense. Only a single speaker sat in the middle of the room, wires coiled like snakes around it. As I stepped forward, it clicked on. Kaye’s voice came through. Calm. Curious. Afraid. A perfect recording. Then Jared’s voice. Warm. Easy. Artificial. “We have much to discuss,” the recording repeated. My stomach dropped. They were not here.

Audrey begins, her voice screeching. Love moves like a viper. She speaks a single, guttural word in the old tongue and slaps her bare palm directly over Audrey’s mouth. A horrific, wet sound echoes through the cell. When Love pulls her hand away, my stomach flips. It looks like something straight out of a nightmare. Fresh, pale skin has violently bubbled and fused over Audrey's lips, sealing them completely shut. Her mouth is entirely gone, replaced by a smooth, blank stretch of flesh. Audrey's eyes widen into dinner plates. She thrashes backward, clawing desperately at her own face, trying to tear open the skin. Only muffled, nasal grunts escape her throat.

All these thoughts were to take flight once the clanging of pots and pans alerted Tilla to someone’s presence. Turning to regard the person who had disturbed the crockery that had been left to dry on a spit behind her. Tilla observed the overturned pots and the scraggly figure who approached her calmly. The man’s face, peppered with stubble and dark circles tracing the rims of his hollow eyes, it was not a countenance that she recognized. However, open to the possibility that they had not yet been introduced, Tilla attempted to ease their awkward encounter here with a simple acknowledgement.

I repeat quietly, growing unnerved by the stillness of the motionless strangers as their faces remain harrowingly unseen. “Why hello, Willow,” one of the unknown figures ushers back soothingly to me; her voice familiar and comforting as she responds with nothing but warmth drenched within her tone, “-we’ve been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time,” the faceless woman raises her hand and waves it in the air towards her silent companions, her features still masked beneath the shadows of her velvet cloth hood.

Our conversation was interrupted by partially shifted Amber, "Shut the holes in your face and listen," "What is it—" "Listen," But I couldn't hear anything, but I could feel vibrations coming from the ground. Stooping, I lowered myself to the ground, pressing my ear against concrete. Closely my eyes, I listened, I hear footsteps, marching in a unison, fast, "W.I.K.D," I mumbled, "It's W.I.K.D... They have found us," "We need to split up, send them on while goose chase," Al spoke,

The noise becomes a low pulse under my feet, steady and growing. I stop when I reach the middle. There’s space around me now. Not much. Just enough that I can turn and see them from every angle. Hundreds of faces. Hundreds of eyes watching like they’re waiting for the world to tilt in a new direction. My pulse thumps fast, but my breathing stays even. Controlled. Present. I raise my voice. Not shouting. Just enough to carry. “We aren’t going back to silence,” I say. “Not today. Not ever again.”