Father Elijah: An Apocalypse Novels & Stories

We do not have time to indulge ourselves in our sexual needs. Tempted to give in, with want burning me from the inside out, but I can’t. I need to find it before all ends, before I can cause more despair in this world. I have already unleashed some of it into the world, for I am Apocalypse.

I whispered back before been lured into darkest by sleep. ~~ The sound of something crashing against a wall had me jointing out of bed. I saw Elijah putting on his clothes and with a shaky voice I asked "What's happening?" "We're at war" I pulled open the curtains to see a bright green light shinning from afar. Someone is trying to bring the walls down. My eyes snap to Elijah and with widen eyes I thought of my son. "Micah"

Another Elijah? *** The End ***

ELIJAH'S POV: I grabbed my jacket, my keys, and one last look at the sleeping children, kissed them on their forehead before rushing out of the house. Ten minutes later, black SUVs pulled up front. I slid into one of them beside my godfather. The vehicle sped off immediately. The ride felt endless. My heart battled between terrifying dread and explosive hope. What if she was there? What if I was finally close enough to touch her again? What if I was too late? What if she’s hurt and in pain?

Next morning Elisa's slumber was shattered as Elijah burst into her room, his urgency palpable. "Lisa, wake up!" Elisa's eyes fluttered open, disoriented. "What is it? Why are you shaking?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Elijah's face was ashen. "Father..." he stammered. Elisa's heart skipped a beat. "What happened to Father?" she demanded, springing from bed. Elijah's words tumbled out in a anguish-filled rush. "Father is... he's not waking up. He's not standing up."

he said softly, “is the first thing you’ve said today that sounds like a Vale.” Elijah left the building with his disguise still in place, but it didn’t matter anymore. He could feel the eyes on him, cameras hidden in ceilings, security guards pretending not to notice. His father would know by tonight that the ghost had walked into Carr’s den and walked back out alive. The city outside was loud, indifferent. Cars honked. People brushed past him, heads down, lives intact. Elijah pulled his hoodie tighter, his cap lower, and kept walking. He had proof now. Not written, not signed, but spoken. He knew the truth: his father had wanted him gone, erased, buried under someone else’s disaster.

Elijah pov I felt like I was drowning in a sea of secrets, each one threatening to pull me under. My father, the man I thought I knew, was a stranger. "Tell me more," I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. Amelia's eyes filled with a mix of sadness and regret. "Your father was a key member of the Order, Elijah. He worked tirelessly to maintain balance within the supernatural world." I scoffed, trying to process the enormity of her words. "Balance? You call betraying me balance?"

Unbearable, bone-crushing pain tore through every inch of Cyrus Knovell's body. It was no illusion. It was real. Too real. He lay sprawled on the ground, beaten by the very friends and neighbors he had once trusted and helped. Their fists, their boots, even their sticks struck him with ruthless force. In this apocalypse, where food and water meant survival, kindness no longer mattered. They cared only about tearing him apart. Through the haze, Cyrus spotted a familiar figure at the edge of the mob. It was Diana Feynor, the woman he had once worshipped as a goddess.

"This is the Elysium Refuge. I'm in charge here." Elysium Refuge. I had heard that before. In the third year of the apocalypse, it became the largest and most stable human settlement known to exist. Rumor had it that it was equipped with a complete defense system, ample food supplies, and even had an ongoing research of the virus. "How did I..." I began, my voice hoarse. "Our scout team found you in the ruins," Iris said, her gaze studying me closely. "You were running a dangerously high fever. Your skin was cracked and healing in cycles. We almost thought you wouldn't make it."

"Please, please, please." Elijah's laugh was a sickening, gleeful sound in the dark. "Still crying for the dead?" he hissed, his voice vibrating with a feverish intensity. "He's worm food, Angel. Nothing but rotting meat in the mud. And you... you are my masterpiece. My ruin. My everything." He leaned forward, his eyes wide and unblinking in the gloom, a manic fire burning in their depths. "I can smell your grief. It's delicious. But it's a lie. You don't mourn him. You mourn the idea of him. I am the reality. I am the god of this story now."