Edge Of The Apocalypse Novels & Stories

An obsidian stone is inside my seal, and the guards fall over themselves to let us inside once they know who I am. The wall is ridiculously tall, made of thick, reinforced steel. I crane my neck back, move my hair back to see it all. The portly guard pulls a lever, and a portion of it lowers. Clunky and groaning, the ice flys out, the gate forcing its way open. The gate lowers completely, warm water slowly trickles out, and the inside of Estate Eclipse is steaming. I grab onto Dante and he helps me past the blocks of ice until we cross the other side of the gate.

Alexei spat pushing the blade against my bare neck. I feel a sharp pain in me. My breathing becomes heavy when Alexei deepens the blade, my skin slowly opening as I feel a warm liquid caressing down my neck to the bedsheets. I place my hand on the blade and put all my strength to push it away but Alexei uses his body strength to fight back. Instead of pushing it away, I twist his wrist so that the sharp rapier is now in contact with his skin. I gasp when I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen. Using my knees to warp around Alexei's waist with all my strength I hurl him over me.

Aphrodite hovered nearby, barefoot despite the falling debris, her body luminous, lips painted like the fires above, hair drifting in the currents like it obeyed a gravity all its own. “You should’ve stayed dead,” Vaethea hissed, dodging a wave of molten light that liquefied a drone midair. Sparks showered like raindrops on cracked asphalt. “And you should’ve stayed kind,” Aphrodite replied softly, cruelly, flicking her fingers and watching a whole office tower crumble into granular dust that scattered like sand in the wind. The streets below were a chaos of collapse. Civilians ran, some trapped beneath overturned vehicles, others screaming into digital voids as their comms failed, signals l

In the distance, faint towers rose like jagged teeth—the outer gates of the Citadel. Sylra exhaled. “We’ll reach it by nightfall if the storm holds.” Aaron squinted at the horizon. “Assuming it’s not already buried under whatever apocalypse is brewing.” Edward shot him a warning look, but Aaron’s sarcasm was just camouflage. I could feel his tension, sharp and real. We set up a brief camp before pushing forward. Edward built a small fire while Sylra checked the runic compass. Aaron kept watch on the ridge. I sat by the fire, staring into the flames, the whisper in my head now constant.

Then static slammed down. Apollo roared. The sound shattered what remained of the windows. Glass exploded outward into the dark beyond, raining over the outer ledge like fallen stars rejected from Heaven. Far below, something screamed in the courtyards. The mountain answered with a deep, groaning shift. Somewhere in the palace, bells began ringing of their own accord, not alarm bells, not war bells, but old warning chimes embedded in the walls before Apollo’s reign, singing because the Devil’s grief had begun to look too much like apocalypse.

Lucas asked, his eyes glowing with the fire of a thousand suns. "The 'Edge'," Audrey whispered, as the Union’s "Universal-Foundry" began to move into the "Deep-Void," seeking out the next cold world that needed a "Spark."

And tucked against my chest, warm and steady, my son is narrating the apocalypse. “The Rage has breached the third defensive construct,” Confluence says thoughtfully. “Madness favors illusion over reinforcement. It’s a flawed strategy against something so direct.” “You’ve been alive less than an hour,” Alistair growls. “I’ve been aware far longer,” my son replies. We crest a rocky incline, joining the stream of refugees fleeing in the opposite direction of whatever cosmic horror now tears at the world behind us. Wolves. Humans. Children. Some barefoot. Some bleeding. All terrified.

We celebrated in her shop and filled the air not with cream, but the smell of barbecue. And the tablet in her shop was, as usual, airing news that ruined my mood. The news was talking about the Claude Group. It was a new company and was going strong in the first six months of the year. Now it was in a crisis, and Lauren, the CEO, stepped down. They filed for bankruptcy and started restructuring. I changed the channels. Ah, better. Now it was showing a popular comedy variety show. Laughter came from the screen, and the three of us raised a toast. "To a bright future!"

"It's starting. Whatever you predicted, it's starting. And we're out of time." Maya followed him through chaos. Other prisoners being processed out. Guards abandoning their posts. People running. In the processing room, Daniel was waiting with Sloane. "The apocalypse," Daniel said without preamble. "It's not in twelve days. It's happening now. Temperature drops across the northeast. Sudden, catastrophic. The Governor issued an emergency order releasing you because—" The lights flickered. Went out. Emergency backup kicked in. "—because the power grid is failing," Daniel finished. "Maya, we need to get to the shelter. Right now."

The fissure had long since closed over. People moved through it like any other street corner, but someone had lined the edge with white roses and small bouquets, and here and there were snacks and drinks left among them. I wasn't the only one who had lost someone that day. In the apocalypse, no one came through untouched. But it was over now. That was what mattered. I sniffled quietly, set my white roses down, then slipped the small pink backpack from my shoulder and left it there too. The wind moved through the trees. I crouched down and pressed my hand flat against the ground.