Nietzsche Daybreak Novels & Stories

Nikitas pov The dim light of early morning cast long shadows through the tall windows of my father’s office, and I sat alone at his desk, confronting the silence with an iron will. Exhaustion gnawed at the edges of my mind, a persistent ache growing stronger with each sleepless night spent grappling with the relentless curse within me. It had become a separate entity, living beneath my skin, whispering insidious thoughts of surrender and relief in the quiet moments between each breath. But none of that would deter me from my chosen path. I would not let it win; this curse died with me, even if that meant going through this pain for years.

Three months later, he came back to me, tender and attentive as before. The moment I lowered my defenses, Taylor signed me into a psychiatric ward. “You took the love of my life away. You can rot in hell for all I care!” I spent the next three years in a cage. Between forced medication and electroshock therapies, I eventually escaped by jumping off the roof. I opened my eyes, and I was back. Taking a deep breath, I tapped into the comments. Hot comment #1: “Wake up, girl! You’re biting the hand that feeds you!”

I’ll ask for 10 pounds of chestnuts today then go for peanuts a few days later. Hesper received the nuts expressionlessly. ‘Although Nathaniel has gone along with my request obediently, I don’t believe for a second that he wouldn’t doubt my sudden request and my motives. That’s why I can’t ask for peanuts on the first go. Although Nathaniel has imprisoned me at this place at the moment, I can see that he has special feelings for me. Perhaps the personnel in Daybreak are currently at each other’s throats because of me, especially 013; he’s surely one of those who can’t wait for me to die. If that's the case, I must use these conditions to earn myself opportunities or windows. The more chaotic

Zee's POV "And the First Light of Morning Woke to usher the first dawn in Hell And cried as it happened. For the Light was a weak and paltry thing And lacked the Warmth He was accustomed to Now that they were in the dark. He asked for forgiveness, Begged for it, And heard—for the first time, Nothing in return." ~ The Book of Lost Days Lilith 2:1-2 "You know life would be a lot easier if you didn't scream as much…"

They had spent hours passionately debating, planning, and dreaming of the next phase in their mission to advance mental wellness. Nathan was the first to stir, his mind already buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He rose quietly, careful not to disturb his sleeping comrades, and gazed out at the landscape before him. The rising sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, its beauty a reminder of the world's capacity for renewal, resilience, and rebirth.

A reminder that it had been already three years since she moved into the manor, since she became Ayla Chevalier. Usually, a night-blooming cereus that had been carefully groomed would need another year or two before giving its first flower, that was what Lyra said. However, this plant was special, Ayla had always felt a strong spiritual energy emanating from it. And that night, apparently, it’d bloom for the first time. It was extremely important for her to be back before sunset. *** She met her friend halfway to the city walls. “You look exhausted.” Estée pointed out. “Ironic, since you rarely go out for missions.”

“We understand. Good night, Alpha Lachlan and Mari.” After all the formality, Alpha Mikhail escorted Nyx to her room, offered her a sweet good night kiss and wished her a sweet dreams. As he walked past the guestroom, he recollected how mezmerised he was seeing the changes on the rose petals. He hurried to his bedroom. He took the decanter and poured a considerable amount of beverage on his glass. “I am certain of what I saw.” He took a sip. But his mind tells him it is very impossible. There is certainly no way it could happen. “If I am going to believe what I saw, how did it happened? I really need to know. Very interesting.”

I hate that he orders the death of so many people and doesn’t ever feel an ounce of guilt over it. I hate what he did to Valen, for solars, that he stripped away his freewill. I hate that he let his Kinduri go into my mind. I hate Cyrillius, to the point that hate isn’t a strong enough word. I gather Neron around me. I tell it to form little, sharp spikes. Hundreds of them. They float in the air, poised and ready. “Wake up,” I say harshly. I kick his bedframe to make sure he jolts awake.

In his time as a True Crime writer, Byron had interviewed many people, many of them disturbed or troubled in some way. In these interviews, he would often run up against what he called The Breakdown, to the point where, due to the pressures of telling him their story a person would hit an unknown well of feelings and just… shut down, usually in a maelstrom of tears. They always recovered but it was at a point that Byron always hated, even dreaded.

Sparks flew up into the air. He cannot fix what he broke, Nythera said. So he will try to break more. I smiled at the fire. “Let him try,” I said out loud. My voice sounded steady. Kade looked at me across the flames. He did not smile but his eyes looked pleased. “Tomorrow we go deeper,” he said. “There is more to find here. More that will wake up in you.” I nodded and lay down on the ground near the fire. The dirt felt cool under my back. My body was tired but my mind felt clear. Nythera stayed close. She did not sleep. She watched with me.