Romans & histoires Oblivio Miraculous

“You mean…?” Meala nodded slowly. “Let her forget. All of it. Every painful memory.” “You know as well as I do, the potion of oblivion isn’t permanent. A strong enough trigger could bring it all back.” “What matters now is waking her up,” Meala replied. “We’ll deal with the rest when the time comes.” Elric sighed and nodded. “I’ll begin the preparation.”

I look around to see the old throne room has been completely cleared of water like an air pocket, as King Sebastian and Queen Lemuel stand mere feet away, using the wall of water separating us from the sea as a window to observe the battle ongoing at Invictus. As I stand up, Oshmin switches back to his human form, looking around in confusion before casting his eyes down on the cold, lifeless body of Gabriella, her eyes looking up at us both yet seeing nothing. I push the guilt aside knowing it won’t do any good. I must focus on the task at hand. “She’s Jartre’s animai, isn’t she?” Oshmin asks, his tone quiet and horrified. I ignore his question as I face the Orraikam to see its monolithic be

“I cannot cross that line, it is dark magic, I will not taint myself, Arthur will never forgive me.” “You will not have your Arthur to forgive you if you do not do anything,” Raul Collins barked. “Listen, Mila,” and he rolled Mila on the ground with a force so that she was now facing the ceiling of the prison, “I will not lose my son, especially not at the hands of that filth Motif Rivera, okay? So, what did you just remember.” “Osho told me that my ancestor, the first Daniels – Sharpe twin sister,” Mila spoke as tears escaped Mila’s eyes and disappeared in her hair, “she – she could absorb energy out of other beings.”

Within the golden circle of flame, the memory bloom pulsed with desperate urgency, its voice now the only botanical whisper left in a space that had once sung with the voices of impossible flowers. "We need more than salt and prayers," Sarah said grimly, her weathered hands moving with practiced efficiency as she gathered the ritual components Eleanor's journals had specified. "My family's protections can shield us from psychic backlash, but they won't be enough to break through whatever supernatural barriers Evangeline has erected around Damien's consciousness."

Lucien breaks free of the ice,magic bursting blue,but Noelle freezes his arms before he can reach me. “Elora!” he shouts. “Don’t go—please—!” But the altar’s pull is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I take one step. Then another. Milo grabs my hand, sobbing, “Please don’t…” But my feet keep moving. The altar brightens,until a final, deafening blast of light fills the hall,and the world disappears.

Oblivious. She slammed the door shut behind her and collapsed to her knees, head over the toilet. Her stomach heaved. It wasn’t nerves. It wasn’t wine. It wasn’t even stress, though she had plenty of that to spare. It was something else. When it was over, she sat back against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Her heart pounded like a drumline in her chest. She hadn’t felt like that since— Her brain froze. No. No way. She grabbed the edge of the sink, pulled herself up on shaky legs, and stared into the mirror. Her face was pale, lips colorless. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Silvano The new mark is straightforward. A mid-level politician skimming funds from the wrong accounts and talking too loudly about deals that should stay buried. I handle it before dawn—clean entry, silenced shot, staged suicide with a forged note. No witnesses. No traces. Silenzio does what he was built for. By sunrise the city already whispers about another tragic loss in public service. I should feel nothing. I usually do. Today the kill sits heavier than it should. Maybe because Mirella’s face keeps flashing behind my eyes. Or maybe because every completed mission reminds me how easily the Organization can redirect my aim again.

I chewed slowly, cheeks hot, eyes darting sideways, praying no one saw what I was sure looked obscene. But no one paid attention. Except Lucien. Then it happened. The softest click. Barely audible over the hum of the party. But I felt it. Inside. The plug vibrated, just once. A small pulse. A low throb. I flinched. Tiny. Invisible. But Lucien saw. Of course he did. His eyes locked to mine, and his lips curved into something wicked. Barely there. I swallowed hard. The plug buzzed again.

She raised a hand—and three of her mirror copies lunged forward. Carl intercepted one, blade humming. Ophelia ducked the second, slamming her palm against its head and activating her memory disruptor. Tobias scrambled for cover, launching a neuro-blast that flickered through the air like lightning. But Mira didn’t move. She just watched. And smiled. “You’re not ready for what’s coming,” she said. “None of you are.” Then her body turned to light—and vanished. The remaining mirror copies fell to the ground like broken puppets.

Special craft, she had mentioned we are royal blooded. "Search her cabin!" Miradel shouted. "EL OBLIVION OBLIVIOUS OBLIVIMUM! burn their knowledge about my niece, FLARIOUM FLAMUS! Vanished this them all."