Ian Bliss Matrix Novels & Stories

*** Sereia's POV *** The Nullification Matrix was a masterpiece of Lycan sorcery. To a warrior like Xander, it was an inescapable prison of brute force. But through the golden, augmented vision of the Dragon Architect, I didn't see an impenetrable cage. I saw code. I saw geometry. I saw a closed-loop algorithm built on arrogant, rigid assumptions. The High Council sorcerers who designed this matrix assumed the target would fight against the pressure. They programmed the pillars to absorb kinetic resistance. Rule 1 of system architecture: Every closed loop has a blind spot.

It must. “I will talk with Bliss about this,” says my mom and I nod. Bliss is Marea’s mother and she is a healer… or at least that’s what she calls herself, “I promise this will be easy. I had to let your dad go multiple times, but he always came back to us. It’s just a year.” “Yeah…. I guess,” I say, forcing myself to sit like the adult I’m supposed to be, “And I guess college will help distract me.”

A mere fourth level of Nirvana Realm Caspian was even less likely. The moment Caspian stepped into the world of bliss, this battle was destined. In the Blissful World, she, the Venerable of Hell, could be said to be invincible!

He watched Matrix the way hungry things watch something that looks like food but might be a trap. “You care about her,” Fionn said, not a question. Matrix turned his head slowly. “I care about the job.” “Same thing, if you do it long enough,” Fionn said with a crooked smile. “You start loving the thing that kills you.” He sniffed the air and tilted his chin toward the dark seam where the market stalls began. “Scent.” Matrix felt it then, thin as a piano wire under noise. Not her, exactly. Not fresh. The ghost of her, dragged across canvas and salt. The witch’s screen was working; what it allowed was suggestion, not trail. It made everything into a maybe.

More clinical. "Subject demonstrates exceptional natural mimicry. Observed matching gait, posture, speech patterns of targets within 4-6 hours of exposure. No conscious awareness. Ideal candidate for distributed integration." I flipped. Page three. Four. More photos. Me at the supermarket. Me on the train. Me sitting on a park bench with Margaret, the day we met. She was already in the file. Already part of the observation. Last page. Dated two weeks ago. "Subject believes she is resisting replication through 'witnessing' behavior. This belief is itself replication pattern Y-0 through Y-7. Subject is not recording the system. The system is recording subject. Recommended: accelerate to termin

his mother, Ruth, inquired from across the circular table, her keen gaze detecting even the slightest change in his mood. “I’m fine, Mother,” he reassured her, as his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his assistant, Brown James, likely sending over documents requiring his signature. Rising from his seat, Fidelis informed his family, “I need to change. I’ll see Brown in the lobby while I’m at it.” Downstairs, wearing his pristine white shirt, Fidelis could have easily been mistaken for hotel staff. He met Brown at the bar, where his assistant had already organized the revised documents.

The pain lessons, but I am still left curled into a ball feeling like death is clawing at me, ready to take me away. “Breath Crysta! You just have to let the shift happen. Fighting it will only kill you.” Matrix advises. I whimper wondering what he expects me to do while my insides feel like they are being ripped apart by burning claws. I want to fight this pain, to prevent it from hurting me but his reminder that fighting will kill me causes me to close my eyes and focus on breathing. I feel my bones snapping, my breath catching in my throat as the pain causes me to scream. I feel pin pricks through my skin as something grows out excruciatingly slow. My face elongates, my jaw snapping witho

“ Mother? She was just a tool to get my strength back. Also I don't need a mother. I need that power - ARGH!!!” His red eyes open widely as he spits a good amount of blood out of his mouth. His eyes slowly shift on Bliss who is standing there unbothered. She didn't even move. “How-!?” He chokes on his own blood. Bliss licks her paw to clean the glass that itches her skin and glances at Noah like nothing happened. She is just chilling. “ We both are going to die. Your mother did a good job to damage my organs!”

He continues, as if I never spoke a word, “in a few months when your brats are born they’ll join you in the afterlife almost immediately, you won’t have to be alone on the other side for long.” Despite my promises not to get distracted, his words pull my attention completely – just not for the reason he intended. “Brats.” I repeat dazedly, “plural?” “Bastien,” Matthew grits out in warning, “don’t let him get to you.” “Oh that’s right.” Blaise smirks, “you don’t know. You should have heard the way your poor little mate cried when she found out she was having twins, you should have seen how sweetly she begged me to let your son live after I kill your daughter.”

Gods dammit. Something else is wrong with this girl. I hate to say it but I don’t know if I could put up with the emotional turmoil a mate like this would give me.. They tell you about war. They tell you about running the pack, the finances, the hierarchy. They tell you that being a good Alpha comes with discipline, compassion and strict character. But they do not tell you that your Beta may become a world ending wolf if his rage is unchecked from the evils that are threatening his mate. They tell you how mates strengthen you and how if your mate is threatened or harmed it sends you into a rampage that sometimes you can’t control or would even be in your right mind to.