Act Of Oblivion Novels & Stories

A language written in texture and memory and a quiet, unbreakable will. The obsession was a live wire in my veins. I had just mutilated a man as a warning to her father. But the true battle wasn't being fought in crumbling distilleries. It was being fought in the quiet of my study, across a desk, with a blind girl who was steadily, unknowingly, carving her way into the core of me. I needed to reassert control. Not over Danta. Over her. Over this… feeling. I needed to see her. To remind us both of our positions.

Like I was asking if I did or didn’t. “I know I didn’t kill him,I never could. No!!!” I wept in pain.I cuddled myself on the ground, though I wasn’t feeling the ground. This made me feel uneasy,I looked down to see I was in midair,my hair was filled with electricity,I was filled with flames “why can’t I control it!!”I yelled and immediately fire stoked out of my skin,consuming every inch of my body. “Wow !!, the goddess of the blue core finally activated her powers after how many years?!!” The lady smiled.

Just one. A small act of rebellion. Like: fuck your surveillance. Like: watch this instead. And then I do something even dumber. I write a line of code into his home system — a dummy loop. It’ll reverse the surveillance footage in my room and overwrite his audio feed with a sound loop of me snoring. It’s petty. It’s small. But it’s my way of saying I see you, too. --- The next morning, breakfast is silent. Lucien doesn’t speak to me.

These words were whispered near her ear. Obey me Submit to me Be mine And they played like a tape in her head while her eyes witnessed the caged woman. He was playing with her mind. The goosebumps surfaced on her body. Her eyes cursorily landing on an ant that crawled from the dusty basement floor al the way upto her mattress and then to the chain, circled around her ankle. "How can you treat a woman like that?" The whisper escaped through her lips, catching his ear. "You don't know me," He muttered.

Instead, it had turned waiting into its own quiet affliction, and I had never been a man who counted time this way, not for a person, not for anticipation that lived too close to hope. And yet by Thursday, I could have told you exactly how many candles had burned down in the side chapel since she left, the numbers of masses I had stood through without seeing her in the third pew on the right. How many times my gaze had moved to the church doors before I'd caught myself. I had become observant in all the wrong directions, and I knew, better than most, that observation left unchecked was only ever the first step toward something worse. (Obsession)That was the word I refused to use — even in si

No lines left to cross. Just fire. And whoever burned first.

The obsidian current radiating from his chassis didn't crush me; instead, it violently expanded outward, seizing control of my failing subroutines and forcing my digital feet back into the stone floor. He didn't remember who I was, but his code still recognized me as his absolute priority—his atmosphere. With a single, unyielding movement of his obsidian hand, he overrode my resistance, locking my frequency into a submissive, defensive stance beneath his shadow. He was taking complete control of the final countdown, stripping away my choice to surrender to the white-out.

She greeted and the audience returned the greeting. “As the host said, I am the current CEO of Elixiron Pharmaceutical, pleasure to meet you all. Today, I am presenting to you the Essence Of Oblivion. It’s a Bioengineered device and drug, consisting of the Cardiovita, a revolutionary bioelectronic device paired with a Nano medicine solution that offers a high probability of curing advanced heart diseases. It acts as both a regenerative stimulator and a real-time monitor after being applied directly to the heart tissue during minimally invasive surgery.

A physical, undeniable manifestation of the world the void sought to unmake. The robed figure turned its hidden gaze towards the oncoming phalanx of steel. A new sound rose from it, not a whisper, but a low, guttural hum of profound annoyance, the sound of a god confronted by an insect it could not simply swat away. "Anchors," the chorus hissed, its voice a thousand grinding stones. "Chains. You cling to your fleeting flesh, your dying world. You are an affront to the truth." The truth of oblivion.

I ignored them the only wound that mattered was the invisible one the one that bled silence. I found a text on counter-rituals a ledger of negation magic it spoke of sympathetic resonance of fighting magic with its opposite to counter a shard of oblivion one would need a fragment of creation but how what was creation here the bond itself was gone. I had nothing to offer but the memory of it the ghost in my chest.