Novelas y relatos de Dystopia

Quite dusty and looks dull. It's been a long time since it's been occupied, the Dazzle family's home. Helena misses her family, in her illustration Helena can see two children playing with dolls together, a doll specially made by her mother, the doll is made from leaves that are knitted and made special. Selena got a doll with a pretty horrible face, it was because Helena didn't like the doll, Selena finally relented. However, mistakes actually become a threat.

robots:- if you take this pain more than once then you might die. hope you are enjoying the story going to get interesting from here and out, hope you stick till the end, many new characters are going to introduce and their character development and it would be interesting to see thier their emotion and darkness, let see how demon going to end whole organisation of evil people, illuminate, illuminate is real and it is inspired from the real story and all the mess up thing going around the world, who know this world is controlled by few powerful people, who know we are going to awake of not.hope you are enjoying the story going to get interesting from here and out, hope you stick till the end

"Why? Are you going to die again?" "I don’t know. Maybe not, if I change the future." "What future you were talking about?" Blair asked as if she was having a hard time understanding what Ferran was saying and even harder to believe. It sounds insane. "The future where a pandemic crisis will occur and many people will die including my beloved daughter, Cally." He looked down and he still remembered that time where he couldn't do anything to help and save her. He always dreams of that scenery every time he falls asleep.

There is no such thing as utopia--One person's paradise can easily be another person's hell. We created Crescent City to be a shining utopia for supernaturals, a place of peace and prosperity. But it was built on the labor of witches and only those in power lived in true peace. Poor wolves, hybrids, humans and witches were all second-class citizens to the werewolves in charge.

Anya, cloaked in darkness and her newfound determination, navigated the maze, her senses on high alert. District 13 was a different beast entirely. Towering, dilapidated buildings cast long shadows, and the air hung heavy with the stench of garbage and decay. Stray dogs scavenged through piles of refuse, their mournful howls echoing in the deserted streets. Anya's stomach growled, the reminder of her hunger a constant companion.

"And what’s that, exactly?" Damien’s gaze was steady. "The future of humanity." Silence. Ayesha’s grip on her gun tightened. "You mean soldiers." Damien shook his head. "More than soldiers. Leaders. Enforcers. The next generation of the world. Faster, stronger, smarter… and most importantly?" He exhaled. "Completely obedient." Zayn muttered a curse under his breath. "That’s some dystopian nightmare sh*t." Damien gave a humorless chuckle. "Yeah. But it’s real."

Dorian couldn't breathe or move. He watched as Malena expanded the vision, her hands spreading wider, the galaxies growing until they filled the cave. Until he could see cities glowing on distant spheres like jewels scattered across velvet. Communities like constellations, connected by threads of light too fine to name. Life everywhere—thriving, building, reaching toward something greater. And then she showed him the dead places. Planets dark and hollow, their surfaces scarred and broken. Star systems burned out and cold, nothing left but ash and silence. Entire galaxies have gone dim, their light extinguished, their worlds consumed by something hungry and vast and utterly merciless.

Dax’s voice was no longer a vibration in my ears; it was a resonant frequency that felt like it was coming from the center of my own chest. Below the mountain ridge, nestled in a basin that shouldn't have existed on any topographical map, lay the city of Elysium. It wasn't a sprawling neon metropolis or a brutalist concrete fortress. It was a masterpiece of "Bio-Logic" crystalline spires that grew like trees, intertwined with shimmering bridges made of solid thought. The city pulsed with a soft, steady amber light, the heartbeat of a world that lived in the friction between the meat and the machine.

​The air in the "Deleted Scenes" bin didn't just smell of wet ink; it tasted of ozone and the cold, metallic tang of a failed future. As the bookstore reality collapsed above them—the sound of Julian’s typewriter dying like a stuttering heart—Nora hit the floor of the Dystopian Sector. ​The ground wasn't made of wood or grass. It was a shifting mosaic of rusted steel and discarded data-slabs. Above her, the sky was a bruised purple, choked by the "Narrative Smoke" of a thousand abandoned plotlines.

Too dead. Its new target is inevitable. The Council’s last bastion. A place they called the Zenith. A utopia of absolute order. A thousand worlds moving in perfect, silent synchrony. No crime. No conflict. No unwanted growth. A masterpiece of control. A cancer of perfection, in the Gardener’s eyes.