Beautiful Oblivion Novels & Stories

He was coming, she was coming, and the universe was coming into being with them. The Oubliette did not explode. It bloomed. From the outside, the observers on their distant monitors saw the prison station vanish from their scopes. In its place, where a silent tomb once orbited a dead star, a new nebula blossomed into existence. It was a vast, swirling cloud of violet and silver, shot through with veins of deep, velvety black and centers of blazing blue light. It was alive, pulsing with a gentle, rhythmic light that echoed the heartbeat of two lovers forever entwined.

Sweet black oblivion crept up, promising to claim me, taking me into its blissful nothingness. “Archer, my sweet boy, are you okay” the sweetest-sounding voice called to me, pulling me back from my promised oblivion. “Look at me, Archer, right in my eyes.” Doing as the heavenly voice wanted was hard, but there was no way I couldn’t do as she said, my body wanting nothing else but to do as she asked, to please her.

"I'm with you." My body is betraying me. The friction is relentless. It bypasses my mind and goes straight to the nerves. I can feel the heat building, the traitorous swell of pleasure rising against my will. "Fight it," I tell myself. "Don't give her this." But I can't. The machine knows exactly where to hit. It knows my map. Of course it does. Alex built the map, and Evelyn stole it. "Heart rate: 120 BPM," the lobotomized Echo announces. "Climax probability: 80%."

It looked as if a colossal, invisible eraser was casually dragging itself across a painting. Hovering above the atmosphere were the vanguard of the True Admins. They were not ships. They were colossal, perfectly smooth, featureless white obelisks, completely devoid of windows, engines, or weapons. They simply drifted, projecting a silent, invisible wave of "Null-Code" that reduced whatever it touched into absolute nothingness. "They're formatting the grid," Scarlett whispered, a cold chill running down her spine. This wasn't combat; this was an uninstallation. Caleb didn't look at the obelisks. His acute Lycan vision zoomed in on the Blackwood Wastes.

The primal warriors were pouring into the valley, destroying everything in their path. And in the center of the fleet, on the largest ship—the Oblivion—stood the Forgotten. He was tall, with skin like obsidian, his eyes like purple fire. He looked up at Cole and smiled. You’re too late, he said, his voice echoing in Cole’s mind. Your world is already lost. He raised his hand, and a wave of primal energy shot out, striking the ledge. The ground crumbled beneath them, and Cole and the others fell.

I lost consciousness as a result of the fall and wandered in the darkness of my mind for a time that I could not define. When I started to open my eyes again I did not feel my body at all and did not remember anything about the latest events. I needed to lift my head and meet Ezra's blue eyes to remember my horrible situation, he was kneeling next to me with a bloody shoulder and staring at me as he turned the knife in his hand. I screamed in fear and wanted to run, however my body did not move a muscle, the pain began to run through my entire being and I had to ignore it to start crawling back. Ezra got up and began to slowly advance towards me while squeezing the handle of the knife.

The spinning stops as everything quickly begins to blur. The gun drops from my hand and everything starts to turn black. Emerald. Emerald. Save Emerald.

"Yes, I'm mad! If it weren't for you, Sean would've been with me! It was all your fault for trying to hold him responsible so he couldn't break up with you! "You ran away and made him force me to have an abortion! My body is now destroyed! My womb is gone! I can no longer have children. Are you happy now?" I was stunned. I only knew that she had an abortion; I did not know about the other news. I frowned and tried to push her away. "Calm down." "How do you want me to calm down, Rachel? You willingly lose your eyesight for him, right? Why don't you continue staying blind?"

another answered. “Calling what?” “Not it,” a third voice said softly. “Them.” In Tamerith, the blind boy who had not spoken in days turned to his mother and said: “The bloom is listening to itself now.” His eyes remained closed. But he smiled. The spirals that bloomed beneath Siran did not shimmer like the ones of old. They didn’t burn. They didn’t pulse. They simply… existed. Color-washed symbols, fragile and incomplete, curling outward like veins through stone.

Abernathy had requested an emergency alteration to Elias’s charcoal suit before the morning board meeting, noting an *inflammation and distortion* on the right side of the neck. Sophia’s thumb traced the rim of her untouched water glass. A cold, quiet understanding settled into her bones. The distortion wasn't an inflammation. It was a physical mark—a raw, heavy claim of ownership left by Damien Blackwood’s fingers before they cleared the Atlantic grid. They were performing behind the glass, believing they were invisible, while the infrastructure of the house was quietly recording the alignment of their bodies. She reached down and tapped a single command on her keyboard. The file dissolved,