Voices From the Soil: a Supernatural Horror Novel of Rituals and Madness Whisperer Book

Medevac from a burning front. A nameless rehab outside the city. A soldier who will not speak—because something older is speaking through him.After he’s airlifted out of Ukraine, Mykola H. arrives at Southfield Military Rehabilitation: not a hospital, not a prison—something in between. Dr. Aleksandra Claybourne, all clinical precision, wants a diagnosis. Olena Rudenko, a translator with a grandmother’s secrets braided around her wrist, understands this isn’t therapy. It’s a ritual.Session by session the stories come: patrols that vanish into peat bogs; villages that were never mapped but remember your name; a bridge that breathes; a bombardment where light nails eyes to the sky. It isn’t PTSD. It isn’t mass hysteria. It’s a language—parasitic, prehistoric, carried by earth and sung by walls. And it wants a mouth.Southfield begins to answer. Vents breathe in meter. Floors moan in time. Symbols appear in bile, in tooth blood, in condensation—the same ancient glifs, over and over, forming a solar labyrinth mapped into the building’s bones. Patients go quiet. Their bodies keep talking. The staff go missing—first from rosters, then from memory.As the Mud King and the Mother—two faces of one voice—push through the seal beneath the wards, the “sessions” become liturgy. Speaking becomes possession. Looking becomes consent. Aleksandra’s reports rot into runes. Olena’s lullabies open the door wider. And when the door finally yields, Southfield steps cleanly out of reality—gone from cameras, maps, and records, but still here in the song that will not leave your chest.This is folk horror sharpened to a surgical edge: ritual, body, language, and war trauma woven into a single, suffocating sermon. Voices from the Soil will stick to your teeth like iron and keep humming long after you close the book.Perfect for readers of cosmic and ritual horror, folk legends turned feral, haunted-hospital nightmares, and the cold literature of despair—where the scariest thing isn’t what you see, but what starts speaking with your voice.