Ateez #illusion Novels & Stories

"I've always admired your work. It's an honor to be here." "If you truly admired me, you wouldn't claim my designs as your own," I retorted, unimpressed. Yvette's expression shifted, but she quickly regained her innocent look. "You misunderstood. Elliot said that the design was a team effort. He asked me to use it to improve my presentation skills." Finally, I looked up to study her expressions. She was pretty, with fair skin and delicate features.

She stammered, "M-Maverick, these photos, these agreements… they're fake—all fake! How could I ever do something like this? Ophelia is trying to frame me!" Right on cue, tears streamed down her face, making her look utterly pitiful. I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out a USB drive. "Emma, you recorded videos to pay off your gambling debts. Do you need me to help you relive those memories?" Her expression twisted from pitiful to vicious in an instant. She grabbed a cup of hot tea from the table and hurled it straight at me. "Ophelia, you bitch!" She moved so fast that I instinctively shut my eyes and raised my arm to block it. But the pain of hot tea scalding me never came.

he seethes, his tone accusatory. “We like to view this as a TEAM effort,” I hear a voice announce. I look behind me to see Ezillus alongside three other Gods I’ve never met. The one who spoke has violet hair done in a long Viking braid down her back with gorgeous cocoa skin making her silver eyes pop against her indigenous features. She’s gorgeous and looks like she’s happy to be here, which is questionable. “You can’t have assembled an army this fucking fast, not unless you knew it was going to happen,” Jartre continues.

“Ignore it.” “Alessia, that sounded like—” “It wasn’t real.” Kael exhaled, steadying his breath. “He’s targeting your memories again.” “And failing,” she said calmly. They turned a corner—and froze. In front of them stood an entire street of illusion-bent objects. There are candles floating midair, doors leading to nothing, mirrors reflecting wrong angles, and a glowing spiral of writing on the ground. And at the center—an illusion sphere. A hovering orb of condensed luminous—trapping a curled, trembling figure inside.

“You will be ple‌asant. You will be engagin‍g. But you will not d‍eviate fro‍m the scr‌ipt. We a‌re a couple, madly in love. Do you understand?” Th‍e ai⁠r crac‌kled between them.‌ It w‌as a mi⁠xture‍ of animosity and someth⁠ing⁠ else⁠, something f⁠ar more dangerous. Elara tilte‍d her head up, a small, challenging smile pla⁠ying on her li⁠ps. “Don’t worry, Kaelan. I’m an artist. I’m excellent at creating a⁠ co‌nvin‌cing illusion.”

“Smells like overpriced enlightenment.” Elora snorted. “What does that even mean?” “Freedom and capitalism.” Kailee grinned. “Now come on.” They wandered through boutiques and crystal-lit galleries, Kailee trying on anything she could get her hands on: shimmering skirts, enchanted jackets that shifted patterns according to mood, even a pair of boots that left glowing pawprint illusions behind. Elora laughed until her ribs hurt. This was what Kailee did best: turn shadows into something survivable. They passed a stall of mana-infused perfumes, a magitech jeweler crafting bracelets that pulsed with the wearer’s heartbeat, and finally a boutique draped in dark velvet, tucked away from the main

As the visions flood, the intensity that meets every needy part of me builds and I am only seconds away from crossing that line. When the recollection of being bent over a balcony daybed doesn't feel so imaginative, instead, it's as if I am out there right now with a belt cinched around my throat and being praised for the way my body contorts so willingly with each command. My mouth opens in the form of an O, my legs are spread apart, touching each side of the tub, and I buckle as shocks surge from my head to the tips of my toes. It's intoxicating and invigorating at once. I submerge under the water to recollect myself.

Noah Ellis had a theory about Mason Reed. The theory was this: Mason was the most self-aware person Noah had ever met who worked the hardest to pretend he wasn't. Everything Mason did, the jokes, the charm, the easy confidence that filled whatever room he walked into, was deliberate. Not fake, Noah had never thought it was fake, but deliberate, the way an architect is deliberate, building something functional and beautiful that also happened to hide its own foundations. Most people never looked for the foundations.

She dotted each one of them with her index finger, marvelling at how tiny, yet beautiful the glittering design was. Sinking back in her chair, she puffed up her cheek and let out a breath through her nose, folding her arms across her chest. If she didn't find something to do, fast, she might end up going crazy. Taking out her phone from her bag, she opened her Soda Crush. She had been playing for a minute or so when Joel's voice made her pause and look up.

she said. Once again Cadence was confused. “What are you going to pop out your eyeball and let me use it as a telescope or something? I mean seriously, how does that work?” Eliza began to giggle, which turned into a snort, which made her laugh even louder, and finally it seemed that she must have received a directive to get her act together because the laughter halted abruptly. “I can project it,” she said very seriously. She walked over next to where Cadence was sitting on the couch and pressed a few buttons on what looked like a watch. Suddenly, a video appeared in the air in front of her, and though there was really nothing for it to project on to, Cadence could see it very clearly. She r