Metaphysics Novels Novels & Stories

The ceiling above shimmered with faint enchantments—twinkling stars embedded in glass and crystal that pulsed like a living night sky. She trailed her fingers along the spines, marveling at the titles: The Lost Histories of Astira, The Blood of Forgotten Queens, Mystic Bonds and Magical Lineage, The Vaelthorne Chronicles… That last one gave her pause. She pulled it free and settled into the nearest high-backed chair, curling into its velvet seat like she belonged there. For hours, Seraphine read. Some books were stories, others records of laws, others theories of old magic—names and places she had only heard whispered by old women in markets. And others still… felt oddly familiar, like piece

Then, realizing I might have unintentionally offended her, I added, "I apologize, Jovie. It's just that I'm somewhat skeptical when it comes to metaphysics." With a warm smile, Jovielyn replied, "It is indeed a place I've been. We've all journeyed there countless times across existence—a notion your mind may struggle to grasp. I know it sounds a bit whimsical, but there's no metaphysics at play here; it's grounded in real science, dear."

Cute. I went next to the living room. The couch was dark green. In between this and the television was a soft white patterned carpet against the wooden floor. The tall bookshelf I was talking about earlier was on the right side of the tv. I chuckled in amusement, seeing the books arranged in a color-coordinated way. This girl has a lot of time in her hands. I crouched down, noticing something else at the bottom shelf. It was filled with customized notebooks and journals. I pulled out a medium-sized one with a transparent cover. It was filled with watercolor painting of flowers.

Though, since they don't have a figure like Hala or Machiv with them they might be a little more rowdy than us. "What are you reading now?" asks Syl as Machiv closes the book he was reading to shift to another large, heavy, and slightly old-looking book. I at least get a tiny thread of scent from the book, and I recognize the smell of weathered books that still exist now from the past. "Extended Analysis of Ovid's Metamorphosis With Magical Reference Notation," answers Machiv, holding up the book to show the cover. "Why are you reading that?" asks Syl, a look of disbelief and humor on his face when he hears the title of what Machiv's reading currently.

she asked and Uzor smiled but that question brought him bad memories “Well, I had a girlfriend whom I loved like heaven and she loved me, it was a perfect relationship… or should I say almost perfect, she toured the world with me” “Then what happened?” “She died” “Oh my God…. I am so sorry” Yvonne felt bad “It’s okay, it’s been a while now” “I shouldn’t have brought it up” Yvonne said “It’s fine” he smiled, they remained quiet a while “Tell me did you study these supernatural stuff in school?” she asked “Yes, actually I studied Metaphysics in Europe” “I heard Metaphysists are dangerous” “(laughs) am I?” he asked “Not really”

The ceiling above shimmered with faint enchantments—twinkling stars embedded in glass and crystal that pulsed like a living night sky. She trailed her fingers along the spines, marveling at the titles: The Lost Histories of Astira, The Blood of Forgotten Queens, Mystic Bonds and Magical Lineage, The Vaelthorne Chronicles… That last one gave her pause. She pulled it free and settled into the nearest high-backed chair, curling into its velvet seat like she belonged there. For hours, Seraphine read. Some books were stories, others records of laws, others theories of old magic—names and places she had only heard whispered by old women in markets. And others still… felt oddly familiar, like piece

She wrote until there wasn't a fairy tale lie she couldn't expose anymore. "The End," she wrote at the last page of her novel. Cathedra climbed atop her desk chair and hung a noose over the beams. She tied a knot firmly, making sure it was strong enough to fulfill its purpose. She slipped the knot over her head. She jumped and kicked the chair off. For a few minutes she struggled and fought for breath, the way humans were normally programmed to do. For a few minutes, she had enough time to reflect on her short-lived life.

And something faintly metallic beneath it all. Blood. --- His fingers moved across worn spines until he found what he sought. Soul Vessels. Forbidden Possessions. Underworld Bindings. Kael pulled the heavy books free and placed them across a nearby table. The candles lit themselves automatically. He began reading. --- Hours passed silently. Only the sound of turning pages filled the room. Kael’s expression darkened more with every text. Some spoke of spirits entering weak bodies. Others described possession through mirrors, cursed artifacts, blood rituals.

Arthur found me weeping in the pantry yesterday, overwhelmed by the certain, inexplicable feeling that I had left the oven on in a house I’d never lived in. They are everywhere. A God of the Particular Way Dust Motes Dance in a Sunbeam. A God of the Lingering Taste of Metal. A God of That One Word You Can’t Remember. They are born from the fallout—the Warden’s clumsy creation, our son’s unleashed power, the dissipated melancholy of the Muse. They are too numerous to fight, too fragile to destroy. Stepping on the wrong patch of carpet might annihilate the God of Worn-Out Sock Elastic, and who knows what the metaphysical repercussions of that would be?

Marcus said flatly, and Jesse frowned feeling Marcus shift again, the bed groaning under his weight. “Hey,” Jesse muttered, “Ever think about how if we die tomorrow, we’ll never get laid again?” Marcus frowned like Jesse had said something insulting. “You really wanna do this now?” “I’m just saying… if we die tomorrow, I don’t wanna go out with blue balls.”. Jesse rolled to face him while Marcus stared intently at the ceiling in silence. “I mean, come on,” Jesse continued, sitting up and unsure if the conversation was hitting any nerves because of how silent Marcus had gone. “It’s not like there are rules anymore. We’ve literally murdered the undead. What’s a little end-of-days d—”