Fingers Of The Mountain Oblivion Novels & Stories

The flames dance before us, casting flickering shadows on our faces, reminding us of the beauty that can arise from the darkest of times. In this circle of love, trust, and unwavering support, we find solace and strength. No matter what life throws our way, we know we can count on each other to lend a listening ear, offer guidance, and provide a shoulder to lean on. As the night comes to a close, we gather our things, the embers of the bonfire fading away. We exchange hugs, feeling the warmth of our connection radiate through our embrace. Walking back to the house, hand in hand with Sarah and Ruth, I am filled with a profound sense of contentment.

The forbidden love that became eternal. I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder. Yes I whispered. Eternal. No matter who watches from the dark. The family gathered closer around the fire as the night went on. Hope and Alex danced under the stars. The grandchildren played in the sand. Mia and Daniel shared quiet smiles. Elias told stories that made everyone laugh. We sat together watching the next generation begin their own journeys. The obsession had transformed into something beautiful. A story of survival and love that would endure forever. Yet in the quiet corners of the night the whisper of danger remained. A reminder that some flames never truly go out.

And beneath the word on the glass, barely visible, five faint lines etched into the frost. Like claw marks. Like something had been trying to get in. Or someone had been trying to warn her. Marta returned with bandages. "What happened to the window?" Selene turned. The frost was already gone. No word. No marks. Just clean glass and falling snow. "Nothing," she whispered. "I don't know." But her palm still bled. And her skin still tingled where his eyes had touched her. And somewhere in the forest, something howled: long and low and mournful, and Selene felt it in her bones like an answer to a question she hadn't known to ask.

Are you planning to boast about this victory for the rest of the cycle, Ebu?” The mountain breeze is vastly gentler this high above the territory. I am standing completely bare-legged on Ifu Okoye’s high stone ledge, one of my palms resting lightly on the reinforced crystal perimeter, the other curved protectively over the heavy, swollen crescent of my male womb. The sprawling tribal expanse of Blackthorn City unfolds directly beneath my position, a shimmering grid of primal fires and glowing arcane runes, settling into a deep silence during this thin hour separating the midnight hunt from the dawn.

And with that I marched off into the mountains to face my gravest enemy yet. I stood at the bottom of the mountain and stared up at it, excitement tingling in my frozen fingers and nerves burrowing a hole down the centre of my chest. Windows had been sliced into the mountainside, blunt holes covered with warped glass that didn’t look like it had been made to fit those windows. There were no flowers, no ivy, no rolling fields or farmland. I shuddered into my cloak, wishing I’d worn more than a thin leather jacket and sweatshirt beneath it. Clothes made in Blue Moon weren’t built for the cold like this; the cloak had been tailored especially for the occasion and by the stars, I was grateful fo

The journey to the Clawed Peak was nothing like Elena had expected. The towering mountain loomed before them, its jagged peaks cutting into the sky like claws reaching for the heavens. The air around them felt different—thicker, colder, with a sense of foreboding that seeped into their bones. Every step they took toward the base of the mountain seemed to drag them deeper into an abyss of uncertainty. Elena could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each beat echoing the weight of the prophecy, the fragment in her possession, and the dangers that lay ahead. The closer they got, the more the mountain seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if it had a life of its own, watching them, waiting.

“We’ll face it together.” The eighteenth mountain rose ahead. Though I could not see it, I felt its presence, vast and suffocating, a wall of unseen stone that swallowed the air. The closer I came, the louder the whispers grew. At first they were faint, like echoes slipping in from another world. But as I began the climb, they gathered around me, voices too many to count, murmuring in tones I couldn’t recognize. They weren’t cruel, at least not yet, but they unsettled me in a way that scraped at my ribs. Unlike the fire mountain, which scorched, or the judgment mountain, which pressed down with weight, this mountain chilled me to the marrow. The whispers circled my ears, sometimes brushing s

In order to tap into that power, I needed to become unmovable. I looked around in confusion as we stopped at the base of the mountain. Atlas was practically wobbling on his feet, and I knew we would never survive the trek upwards. Micah hushed me and moved towards the mountain, bringing Elden along with him. Together, they each placed a hand against the rocky surface. Threads of emerald and mahogany twisted into the air, coming from both the Fae men and the mountain itself.

He pulled his hand out, holding a second, larger stone that glowed with a faint, pulsing violet light. "How?" Aderan stepped back, his hand dropping to the holster at his waist. "That section was surveyed yesterday. The sensors didn't pick up a single reading." I didn't look at Aderan. I watched Obi. He wasn't digging. He was listening to the ground, his eyes closed, his chest heaving as if he were connected to the very core of the mountain. "Find it again," I said, my voice dropping to a low, commanding rumble. "Find the rest of them."