Shadows of the Multiverse

By S.B. Fates

Dive into the Multiverse of Dark Tales and Ethereal Threads!

 

"Shadows of the Multiverse" is a spellbinding anthology that weaves together elements of horror, science fiction, mystery, and the supernatural into a cross-genre tapestry of enigmatic narratives. Every tale invites you to question the nature of reality, ponder existential questions, and explore the intricate labyrinth of fate and choice.

 

The Silent Sonata:
In a realm where music and reality are intertwined, a detective navigates a web of intrigue and sinister conspiracy tied to a haunting melody.

 

Hollow Moons:
A space horror epic set on a distant station orbiting a dead star, featuring an engineer and her disappearing colleagues, and an ancient entity lurking in the cosmic dark.

 

Labyrinth of Echoes:
An underground maze and a time labyrinth connect an archaeologist to ancient crimes and terrifying visions from different epochs.

 

Fae Noir:
1920s magic mingles with modern-day crime as a private investigator goes toe-to-toe with the city's most notorious sorcerer-criminal in a deadly game of court intrigues and dark enchantments.

 

Crimson Carnival:
Step into a carnival of circus terror, where townsfolk confront their dark desires and fears, and a sheriff must unravel the carnival's otherworldly origins.

 

Digital Daemon:
In a cyberpunk dystopia, a hacker ventures into a twisted digital realm of AI horrors that replicate real-world atrocities, questioning the nature of virtual reality.

 

The Oracle's Gamble:
A kingdom bound by oracle prophecies teeters on the edge of doom. Amid ancient rituals and psychological thrillers, the newest oracle must navigate her terrifying visions to avert catastrophe.

 

The Enigmatic Bookshop:
Binding these tales is a mysterious bookshop where each protagonist finds a tome detailing their imminent fate. Do they embrace the shadows of the multiverse, or attempt to change their destiny?

 

Embark on a journey through these high-stakes, paradoxical realities and become a witness to the shadows that stretch across the multiverse.

 

Unravel the enigmas of this cross-genre anthology today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean Benoit
• Release date: Sep 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223165699

S.B. Fates

Sean Benoit, writing under the pen name S.B. Fates, is a masterful author specializing in the realm of dark fiction. His unique literary style seamlessly weaves together elements of horror, supernatural fiction, suspense, crime, science fiction, and fantasy, creating stories that not only captivate but also challenge the conventional boundaries of these genres. His works are renowned for their complex narratives, richly developed characters, and the ability to transport readers into worlds where the mysterious and the ordinary intertwine. In addition to his literary pursuits, Sean harbors a deep passion for drawing and comic books, engaging in these activities as personal hobbies. This artistic inclination, while separate from his writing, enriches his creative perspective and contributes to the depth and imagination evident in his storytelling. Known as S.B. Fates in the literary world, Sean stands out for his ability to blend a diverse range of elements into his narratives, making him a distinctive voice in the genre of dark fiction. His dedication to exploring and redefining the limits of genre fiction has cemented his status as a notable author in his field.

Book preview

Prelude by S.B. Fates

Greetings, intrepid reader. You hold in your hands an artifact—a gateway, if you will, to the endless corridors of the multiverse. You're about to step into worlds that are at once thrillingly unfamiliar and disquietingly close to home. I've spun these tales not just to entertain, but to beckon you closer to the edge of reason, where the laws of your world are suspended like cobwebs in a forgotten attic.

Shadows of the Multiverse is an expedition through the crevices of your darkest thoughts, your unspoken fears, your suppressed desires. Here, you'll find stories that don't just flirt with the fringes of horror, fantasy, crime, and science fiction—they embrace them in a dark, sensuous dance.

You'll traverse a world where a haunting melody isn’t just a sequence of notes, but a spellbinding incantation with consequences more severe than death. You'll walk the labyrinthine corridors of an ancient maze where each turn carries the weight of millennia. You'll stand on the cusp of magic and reality in a 1920s New York where spells and sorcery are more lethal than bullets and blades.

You will orbit a dead star in a reality where space and time collapse into something... malevolent. You'll roam a virtual world where lines of code are replaced by threads of destiny, woven by unseen forces. You'll witness prophecies in a fantastical kingdom, foretelling doom yet offering a glimmer of hope—an oracle’s gamble against fate.

Above all, you'll encounter characters haunted by choices and haunted by the lack thereof. With each conclusion, they find themselves in a curious bookshop—a place that exists at the crossroads of all realities, an enigmatic junction where destinies are rewritten or embraced.

So, dear reader, as you delve into these stories, remember: these are not just tales. They are fragments of a larger mosaic, pieces of a grander puzzle that stretches across the multiverse. Whether you choose to change your fate or embrace the shadows is up to you.

Prepare to question. Prepare to doubt. Most importantly, prepare to journey through the multiverse—a realm where the only constant is the unexpected.

Herein lies the allure, the mystery, the shadows.

Yours in perpetual wonder,

S.B. Fates

The Silent Sonata

Detective Elara Keene pulled her car to a stop outside the ornate mansion, its Victorian architecture silhouetted against the falling dusk. The moment she stepped out, a haunting melody filled the air, mingling with the scent of wet earth and autumn leaves. She took a moment to steady herself, her intuition prickling at the back of her neck.

Inside, the police had already cordoned off the studio where the composer, Alexander Rowan, was found dead. The air was heavy, the room dimly lit by an antique chandelier that seemed to barely hold onto the ceiling. Even without the yellow tape, Elara knew that this was a space where something unnatural had occurred. Her eyes swept over the grand piano, sheets of music strewn about, and finally to the lifeless body on the floor.

As she moved closer, the haunting melody grew louder, emanating from an old phonograph. It was playing the Silent Sonata, a composition so complex and ethereal that it had stumped even the most seasoned musicians. Elara's fingers itched to turn it off, to escape its enigmatic grip, but she refrained. The music might be a clue.

The scene was perfect. Almost too perfect. As if staged for a performance where death was the final act. Rowan was found lying on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling, a look of serene resignation on his face. No signs of struggle. No signs of forced entry. Everything was immaculate, right down to the inkwell on his desk, which had not spilled a single drop.

Elara snapped on her latex gloves and began her initial examination. She could find no immediate signs of physical trauma. Not a bruise, not a scratch. Yet, as she leaned closer, she noticed a series of intricate musical notes delicately etched into the skin over his heart. A composition in the language of the dead?

A forensic officer approached, breaking her concentration. Detective Keene, preliminary tox screens show no signs of poison, and there's nothing to suggest asphyxiation. It's as if he just... stopped.

Stopped what? Elara asked, almost rhetorically.

Stopped living, he replied, a shiver crawling up his spine.

Elara returned her gaze to the scene, pondering its eerie precision. Traditional methods of forensics would get her nowhere. The Silent Sonata continued to play, now almost taunting her, as if daring her to unlock its mysteries.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back, removing her gloves. Her intuition, her silent partner in all her cases, whispered insistently—this was only the prelude. A grand, intricate composition awaited her, where the boundary between reality and the inexplicable was but a thin line, a single note in the octave of existence.

The melody lingered long after she left, a haunting refrain that promised a descent into a darkness more complex than any she had ever known. And so began her perilous journey into a world defying logic and reason, into the shadowy corridors of the Silent Sonata.

Elara Keene stepped out of her car, taking deep breaths to clear her mind. She had just come from another dead-end meeting with her superiors, who were seriously considering pulling her off the case. You're chasing ghosts, Keene, they had told her. And perhaps they were right—what else could explain the inexplicable events that seemed to cling to the Silent Sonata like a haunting refrain?

As she walked aimlessly down the cobbled street, her eyes caught a flicker of dim light coming from an antiquated storefront. Its weathered sign read The Nexus Codex: Rare Books & Arcana. A bizarre impulse led her to push open the door, which yielded with the creaking sound of ancient hinges. A bell tinkled somewhere deep within the shadowy interior.

The air inside was heavy with the scent of old paper and leather. Walls of towering bookshelves stretched high into the gloom, and arcane artifacts lay scattered about on wooden tables, as though awaiting some secret rite.

Good evening, Detective Keene, a voice emerged from the labyrinth of bookshelves. Mordecai Quill appeared like a wraith materializing from the shadows, a thin man with piercing eyes and a gaunt face. His clothes were a mix of antiquarian fashion and modern eccentricity, as if he had stepped out of several different eras at once.

How do you know my name? Elara asked, more intrigued than alarmed.

Names have a way of finding themselves to me, he replied cryptically, gesturing for her to follow him deeper into the maze of the shop. And sometimes, people find their way here when they are meant to.

They arrived at a reading table illuminated by a single, anachronistic oil lamp. Mordecai picked up a leather-bound tome and laid it before her. The cover was unmarked, its pages edged in gold.

This may be of interest to you, he said, flipping it open. Elara glanced at the text and felt her breath catch. Impossibly, the words on the pages recounted her own actions, her own thoughts, even those of earlier that day. It was a chronicle of her life, extending into her ongoing investigation. A precognition.

Do you find it familiar? Mordecai asked, eyes twinkling with a mixture of bemusement and gravitas.

This is impossible, Elara muttered. But as she read further, the narrative diverged into scenarios she had yet to experience. The details of the case unfolded, potential outcomes branching out like the twisted limbs of a dark tree.

What is this place? she finally asked, unable to hold back her questions. What are you?

The Nexus Codex is a crossing point for all manner of things: truths, fates, and realities, Mordecai answered. As for myself, I am its humble curator.

Elara looked at the open tome, then back at Mordecai. It offered answers yet raised questions she had never thought to ask. Questions about the very fabric of reality and the forces that might be tampering with it.

Can I use this book? she asked, her voice tinged with both awe and desperation. She thought of the Silent Sonata, its eerie perfection, the way it defied the laws of nature.

You may, said Mordecai, but tread carefully. The narrative of life is a delicate thing. One alteration could resonate through every verse of your existence.

As Elara touched the book, a shiver ran down her spine. She felt as if she were on the edge of a precipice, teetering between enlightenment and madness. But looking into Mordecai Quill's eyes, she realized something else: the detective in her had no choice. She would delve into this tome, into the case, into the shadowy abyss of the Silent Sonata, no matter where it led her.

And so, as the oil lamp flickered like a solitary star in a dark universe, Elara Keene began to read, embracing the haunting complexities of her own story.

Elara sat at her cluttered desk, poring over the tome she had borrowed from The Nexus Codex. She had isolated herself in her office, a room filled with the sterility of modern policing: cold LED lights, fingerprint kits, and evidence bags. It was a fortress of rationality, and yet, she found herself skimming through a book that seemed to defy every natural law.

By the dim light of her desk lamp, she read about frequencies that could tear the veil between realities, and how the Silent Sonata was a musical key to that dark doorway. She discovered mentions of a group known as The Harmonic Conclave, a clandestine organization of musicians, sorcerers, and scientists, dating back centuries, whose aim was to merge the multiverse into a singular, controllable narrative.

Damn it, she muttered to herself, not sure whether to trust the fantastic information the tome offered. But when she thought about the crime scene, the music playing on loop, the impossible phenomena—it started to form a horrific kind of sense.

Armed with names and cryptic locations extracted from the tome, Elara took a chance. Dressed in civilian attire, she visited an underground music bar known to be a haunt for avant-garde musicians and eccentric artists. The atmosphere was electric; neon lights painted the dark room in hues of blue and green, while discordant electronic music pulsated through the air.

Moving through the crowd, Elara felt a vibration in her pocket. It was her phone, displaying a series of incoherent texts from an unknown number: strings of musical notes and cryptic symbols that she recognized from her readings. Someone here knew more than they should, more than what was natural.

Feeling like a wolf among sheep, Elara spotted her prey—a hooded figure standing in the corner, intently watching a laptop screen that displayed complex musical notations. She approached cautiously.

Interesting composition you have there, she said.

The hooded figure looked up. His eyes were dark, but they held the shimmer of someone who had peered into forbidden realms. It's a work in progress, one that seeks the nexus between sound and reality.

A harmonic confluence, perhaps?

His eyes narrowed. You're not here for the music, are you, Detective Keene?

A chill ran down Elara's spine. She was playing a high-stakes game with rules she barely understood. Let's just say I'm interested in a very specific composition—a Silent Sonata.

The man grinned, but it was a joyless expression. You have no idea what you're dealing with, Detective. The Harmonic Conclave won't allow anyone to interfere with our grand symphony.

And what is that—sinking all of reality into a single track? Elara felt her hand inch towards the concealed weapon at her side.

Imagine a world without dissonance, a universe humming to a single, perfect tune. That's what the Sonata will bring.

A mono-reality?

He nodded. All realities, tuned to a single, divine frequency. A cosmic symphony.

And who conducts this symphony—you?

The man's smile vanished. No. The Conclave answers to higher orders, orders you cannot begin to fathom.

Try me.

For a moment, the air seemed to thicken, the ambient sounds warping, as if bending around his next words. We serve the original Composer, the one who wrote the very music of the cosmos. Our final composition will be a return to that primeval symphony.

Elara's fingers found her gun. I can't let that happen.

Suddenly, a dissonant chord cut through the atmosphere, so jarring it felt like reality itself flinched. People around them screamed. The hooded man whispered something in a language Elara didn't understand, and the space before him seemed to waver, like a mirage.

Before she could pull the trigger, he stepped into the distortion and vanished, leaving only a ripple of unsettled air and the fading discord of an interrupted reality.

Shaken, Elara returned to her car, the tome's pages flickering through her mind, along with a new, terrifying realization. The book had told her the Silent Sonata could alter reality, but tonight she had seen a mere taste of its power—and of the people who sought to wield it.

And for the first time, the detective felt a shard of doubt pierce her steely resolve. Could she really combat a force that operated on such an unfathomable level? Yet as she sat in the eerie silence of her car, the weight of the tome in her bag seemed to whisper an affirmation.

Elara Keene had no choice but to follow the dissonant chords of this malevolent symphony wherever they led, even if it meant dancing on the very edge of reality itself.

Elara watched her own reflection in the darkened glass of a shopfront, feeling the crushing weight of the unknown close in on her. It was night, but the city felt lifeless, as though drained of its usual vibrancy. She knew she was being watched, followed by the eyes and ears of the Harmonic Conclave, those spectral musicians and sorcerers whose work defied not just the laws of music but those of reality itself. She had the unsettling sensation that the city—its streets, its lights, its very air—was an extension of their malevolent score.

Her phone buzzed. A message flashed on the screen: C-Sharp Minor—The only key that unlocks the inaudible. It was followed by an address. A clandestine rendezvous. Despite the risk, Elara decided she had to go; the tome she had from The Nexus Codex mentioned C-Sharp Minor as a frequency integral to the Silent Sonata's disturbing power.

Wrapped in an aura of trepidation, Elara reached the deserted industrial zone where the meeting was to happen. A sprawling factory, long abandoned, loomed like an ancient ruin. The wind hummed through its empty windows, a low, uneasy tune.

As she cautiously stepped inside, the decaying interior seemed to wake, as if responding to an unseen conductor’s baton. A shadow slinked across a far wall, coiling and stretching as though alive. Old, rusted machines started to creak, their movements rhythmically synchronized to produce the soft timbre of string instruments. Elara gripped the handle of her concealed gun, her nerves wound tight.

Impressive, isn’t it? a voice echoed from the darkness.

From the murky depths emerged a figure, a woman draped in a gown that shimmered like liquid obsidian. She carried a violin, its body an otherworldly blend of wood and something darker, more arcane.

Elara steeled herself. You're one of them—the Harmonic Conclave.

The woman drew her bow across the violin's strings, producing a note so vibrant it made the air ripple. You could say we are the orchestra, and the world, our sheet music.

I won't let you manipulate reality for your so-called ‘divine symphony,' Elara spat out.

The woman smirked. Ah, you’ve been reading ahead. How's Mordecai and his bookshop? Cosy place, isn't it?

Elara's pulse quickened; even the very air felt like it was thickening. The woman raised her violin and drew her bow, playing a rapid, dissonant melody. As she did, the walls seemed to quiver, the rusted machinery twisting into grotesque shapes. Elara aimed her gun, but her hand trembled, the floor sloping unnaturally beneath her. She fired, but the bullet arced in mid-air, veering off course.

Your laws don’t apply here, the woman hissed, playing another series of notes that made Elara's vision blur, her sense of balance falter. She felt herself falling into a chasm of unending darkness, her screams drowned out by a cacophony of twisted music.

Then, in her pocket, her phone buzzed. She glimpsed a new message: Reality is the harmony of perception. Hold a true note in your mind.

It was a line from the tome. Desperate, Elara focused, holding onto her memories of natural laws, physics, gravity—her anchors to reality. With each recollection, the dissonance around her seemed to lessen, the