Novels by Dada Yomi

The alleyway was a graveyard of discarded tech and frozen steam. The girl didn't look at the sky; she couldn't. Her entire world had narrowed down to the rough, soot-stained bricks of the wall in front of her. Seconds ago, there had been a doorway—a jagged, beautiful exit into the night. Now, there was only a seamless stretch of stone, cold and indifferent to her screams.She slammed her shoulder against the masonry, the impact jarring her bones. There was no hollow ring, no hidden latch. The High Enforcer’s trade hadn't just closed the path; it had rewritten the local reality. The exit hadn't just been locked—it had been unmade."Cassian!" she choked out, her voice flat against the stone.On the other side of that impossible silence, the maintenance tunnel was a portrait of ruin. The air was thick with the smell of burnt copper and the low, vibrating hum of the ruptured power conduit. Cassian sat among the wreckage, his back against the very wall she was clawing at. He didn't move. He

The air in the Under-Sector didn't just smell like rust; it tasted like old blood and ozone. It was thick, sticking to the back of my throat like grease. Every breath felt like a chore, a heavy reminder that I was still anchored to a body that was slowly becoming a hollow shell. Behind us, the rhythmic thud of Enforcer boots echoed against the damp concrete—a steady, predatory heartbeat that told me we were running out of road."Cassian, move! Left, into the crawlspace!"Her voice was the only thing keeping me upright. It was sharp, desperate, and filled with a terror that I felt I should care about more than I did. But that was the problem. The trade wasn't just taking my history; it was taking my empathy.I stumbled, my shoulder slamming into a jagged pipe. The pain was sharp and hot, but it felt distant, like it was happening to someone else in a different room. A flicker in my mind—snap—and the memory of my first day of training, the weight of the rifle, the pride in my father’s e

The dust in the plaza didn't just hang in the air; it tasted like a graveyard. It was a thick, chalky mix of pulverized concrete, old insulation, and the sharp, ozone tang of burnt batteries. Cassian tried to shift his weight, but a white-hot spike of agony shot up his left arm, making his vision go blurry and gray. He let out a ragged, wet curse, leaning his head back against the jagged edge of the crater. Every breath felt like he was inhaling broken glass."Stay down, Cass. Just... just breathe," Maren hissed.She was hovering over him, her small frame blocking out the neon glare of the sky-city. She looked like a wreck. Her face was smeared with gray soot and dried blood, and her red hair was a tangled mess of knots and dust. Her hands were shaking—not just a little tremble, but a full-body shudder that she couldn't hide as she gripped the front of his shredded jacket.Up above, the air began to throb. It wasn't a natural sound. it was that heavy, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of Sector

The silence after the explosion was loud. It wasn't the kind of quiet you get at night; it was the kind that makes your eardrums feel like they’re about to burst.The orbital academies always taught that dying by dark matter was quick. A flash of violet light, and then—boom—you’re gone. No pain, no body to bury, just total erasure. But as Cassian Vale stood in the middle of the floating junk that used to be a cathedral, he realized the generals were full of crap.He wasn't dead. But he definitely wasn't human anymore.Cassian looked down at his chest and felt his stomach flip. His tactical vest—the one designed to stop railgun slugs—was nothing but carbon dust. And where his heart should have been? There was a hollow. Not an empty one, but a swirling vortex of bruised purples and abyssal blacks, like a miniature storm trapped behind his ribs. Every time he drew a breath, it felt like he was swallowing hot needles."Cassian?"The voice felt like a tether pulling him back to reality. He

Cassian woke up tasting his own blood and the sound of nothing.No hum of engines.No heartbeat in his ears.Not even the whisper of air across skin.Just perfect, absolute silence, and the knowledge that he was no longer inside his own body the way he used to be.He opened his eyes.He was naked, suspended in a void that had texture (black glass threaded with violet capillaries that pulsed like living veins). Gravity was optional here; he floated at the exact center of a sphere thirty kilometers across, its inner surface carved into a single continuous bas-relief: every human face that had ever lived, screaming or singing, he couldn’t tell which.The obsidian figure stood ten meters away, whole again, perfect, patient.Fifteen meters tall, eyeless, wearing Maren’s face like a death mask.It watched him the way a surgeon watches an organ that has decided to keep beating after removal.Cassian tested his limbs. They answered, but sluggishly, as if the space between thought and muscle h

The first sound was not a sound at all.It was the absence of every frequency the human ear had ever been built to hear. A silence so complete it felt like drowning in black water.Then the Vengeance’s main AI (call-sign Maelstrom, a military-grade intellect that had survived three wars without ever once saying please) began screaming in a language that predated language.Every holoscreen on the flagship turned the color of old bone and bled vertical script that hurt to look at directly. The letters rearranged themselves faster than thought, forming geometries that made Cassian’s eyes water blood.He was still holding Maren in the cyber-warfare sphere when it started. She went rigid in his arms, ports flaring a violet so dark it looked black, and whispered a single word he didn’t know but somehow understood anyway.“Eresh.”The name punched the air out of his lungs.All over the ship, marines dropped to their knees clutching their heads. Nosebleeds painted the deck like abstract art.