Everything Is Permitted Nothing Is True Novels & Stories

“Where nothing exists. Where the One Who Is Not Lives. It has no form, no name, no purpose—except to unmake everything that is.” A low hum filled the nothingness, growing louder until it became a sound like grinding teeth and breaking stars. The air in front of them twisted and warped, and something emerged—if it could be called emerging. It was a shape that defied all logic: angles that bent back on themselves, colors that had no place in any world, edges that cut through the fabric of existence itself. It was not a thing. It was the absence of thingness. YOU ARE ALL THINGS, a voice echoed—not in their ears, but in their minds, in their bones, in the very concept of their being. I AM THE AB

“Then why are you telling me to?” “Because I’m allowing it.” There it was. That word. Again. Allowing. I tilted my head slightly. “…that doesn’t sound like a choice.” “It is.” “It doesn’t feel like one.” “That doesn’t change what it is.” I almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was frustrating. “Everything here sounds like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m supposed to accept it without questioning it.” “You question everything.” “Because nothing makes sense.”

"Because every living heart creates it." The First Thought appeared above us. Its enormous eye opened. "She has discovered the flaw." Orionis looked toward it. "What flaw?" The First Thought answered. "Choice cannot be destroyed without choosing to destroy it." Silence followed. The Absolute stared at its own hand. For the first time... Its certainty cracked. --- A golden door appeared behind the Absolute. Beyond it stood countless worlds. Every possibility. Every mistake. Every triumph. Every future. The Absolute turned toward them. "They are imperfect."

“I’m sorry, Mom, but you let me down. You lied to me my entire life, preventing me from having a family who loves me, and you almost cost me everything. You did cost me years… many years of happiness. You used your hands as punishment, you cut me down, and still, I loved you. I tried my best to honor you. What I’ve come to realize in the last three months, is that you didn’t deserve my honor or respect. I won’t come back here again. What you did to me was unforgivable. I hope you’ve found happiness wherever you are… I truly do, but I’m done with your burdens.”

I feel it instantly Not control Not evolution Not nothingness Something beyond all of them And as it begins to descend One truth becomes clear Changing existence… Has consequences We still don’t fully understand

The presence processed. “Identity is a constraint.” Luke shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s what makes anything matter.” The air shifted. Subtle. But deeper. The presence focused on him. “Explain.” Luke hesitated. Then— “Because if you’re everything,” he said, “then nothing means anything.” Silence. Lucifer exhaled quietly. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever tried to explain meaning to it.” God’s voice lowered. “It does not require meaning.”

That pause belongs to the living now. I am content to let it go. There is nothing left to hold. Nothing left to finish. Nothing left to prove. The world is allowed to remain open. And so am I. That— That is enough.

“Need something?” “Just… wondering if you wanted coffee. Or maybe to take a break.” “I’m fine.” I nod, but don’t move. “You know, too much work and not enough dancing is bad for you.” “Zara,” he says slowly, “if you come in here, you’re breaking rule four.” “There’s a rule four?” “There is now.” I grin, but back away, holding my hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to your grumpy cave.”

I said, and I meant it as a correction, but even as I said it I was aware that the sentence was slightly wrong, that I had been trying to say I am not something you hold onto and the words had come out in the other order, and for a second I could not work out if that was a slip or something more accurate than I had intended. "No," he said. "You are not." A pause. "You are something I protect," he said. "That does not require your permission." "Everything requires my permission," I said. "That is the entire argument I have been making since the ceremony." "Your permission to make choices about your own life," he said. "Yes. Your permission for me to stand in the same space as you," he said, a

A world of white silk and silent wolves who had forgotten how to run. "Is this not what you wanted?" Caelum’s voice asked from the void. "Peace without the Price?" The Coronation of the Authentic Noise I looked at the "Perfect North" and I felt a cold, hollow horror. "No," I whispered. "Peace without the price is just Death with a Smile."