Beautiful Oblivion Novels & Stories

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.

Vivian's eyes gleamed maniacally. Disgusted, Sean said, "You were just there to relieve my needs. How could I possibly be with someone like you? I've already compensated you. Stop looking for me!" Then, Sean walked toward me. "Sean Sherman, since you love her so much, join her in hell!" Vivian roared and ran toward Sean with the knife in her hand.

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,

"The passage is blocked. The blight has created a barrier of pure corruption between us and Eleanor's final sanctuary. Even if we could somehow break through, the effort would expose the memory bloom to the same poison that's destroying everything else." As if summoned by their conversation, the temperature in the conservatory dropped another degree, and Iris felt the familiar presence of ancient malevolence pressing against the edges of their reality. Evangeline's consciousness was stronger now, her influence seeping through cracks in Damien's mental defenses like poison through a wound. "Feel it building," came the phantom voice, carrying the hypnotic quality of a siren's song. "The hunger

Freya slipped beneath the surface of consciousness like a stone through black water, fast, silent, inevitable. Oblivion didn’t swallow her whole. It studied her, unraveling time in silver ribbons that shimmered and snapped around her limbs. She drifted down, through skies that pulsed like molten glass, the taste of blood and smoke still raw on her tongue. But the blood was too sweet. And the smoke... it was so familiar. When her feet found ground again, it wasn’t solid.

TATE I’D DRUNK TOO much. That was the first thing that crawled through the haze, sluggish and stupid—but the second I blinked, I didn’t see party light or a bedroom ceiling. I didn’t see anything, and a different panic shoved in. Not the hangover kind. Not the regret-the-shots kind. The something’s-fucking-wrong kind. It was dark. Too dark. Not blurry, not dim. Just black. I blinked again. Harder. Still nothing.

My Kidnapper, my Man, my Possessor presses his palm over my heart. “Now, come for me” he growls, thrusting until he bottoms out. I scream. Stars flash before my eyes as I let myself fall into beautiful oblivion, annihilated and consumed by my dark demon in the light.