Novel & Cerita Oblivion Carry Weight

“I’m just glad we haven’t been giving the new ones any wolfsbane. Who knows? Maybe they’ll learn to control it on their own.” Gray nods and offers Bo a wide grin. “Maybe. They’ll be a hell of a lot better than us if they do.” We all know the truth though. Lycanthropy is a curse. There is no way to control it. Not on the full moon. “Come,” Bo says, knocking me out of the dooming thought of our near future. He puts a hand on my back, lightly guiding me to start walking. “Alazaer is down by twin hills, waiting for the others to come back,” he tells us.

Olivias pov As the rogue came at me, I felt the fatigue settling over my muscles once more, a weight threatening to drag me down. I gasped for air, pushing my body to its limits. Every instinct screamed for me to move, to act, to save my own life and those of my friends. But deep inside, I also knew that this moment was essential, a turning point, a test of my resolve and the power I held within.

If we let him get even a foot, he’d ruin everything we’d ever stood for. We walked, without a doubt in our steps, though the weight of the world sat on me. The way forward was clear enough, yet I knew it was fraught with danger. It was a feeling I could sense in the air, as if something lay in wait for us, just beyond the next curve. We didn’t have the time to grieve, to process the pain. Olivia was gone, and all that remained was the war. We had to fight or we’d have nothing.

She'd already applied to a confidential research project with the National Academy of Sciences, one that, if accepted, would take her to a secluded island for decades. For her, emotions had long since become nothing more than a burden, an unnecessary weight she refused to carry on the path forward.

A shared burden. Torin shifted beside me, a silent signal. Time to go in. I opened my eyes, taking one last look at the dark forest, at the unseen battle lines. The weight was still there, heavy as the mountains. The fear still hummed in the pack pulse. Thorne still circled. But the layered calm held. Brick by brick. Breath by breath.

“Why do you get to walk in the silver light while we are forced to rot in the unyielding ice? Was your life worth the price of our silence?” ​The psychic weight was staggering. I felt the guilt of every life lost in my name—every wolf who had died so that the Sovereign could one day return—pressing down on my shoulders like a physical chain of lead. The "Sovereign’s Debt" that the Architects had taunted me with felt real now, a crushing burden that threatened to snap my spirit. I fell to my knees on the frozen stone, the silver fire that usually danced between my fingers flickering and dying out like a spent match.

Possibility. I turn toward the house and lead the way, aware of the weight of what I’ve taken—and what I’ve promised to protect. And somewhere beneath the present, something old stirs. A memory not yet ready to be named. But soon.

Her face, pale as a jasmine flower in the moonlight, lay against the crook of my arm as I corrected her pillow. I had carried her for what felt like hours, though it could not have been more than minutes earlier. Each step through the obsidian veil had stretched and warped time. But my arms had never felt so heavy, not even in battle, not even when I bore wounded soldiers across fields littered with fire. She was not weighty in body as she was fragile, lighter than any human girl should be, but in meaning. She was meaningful to me.

“Nothing physical or essential will hold what belongs to nothing.” While hundreds of people knelt before something they did not dare to name, Alexei realized the dimension of the problem: They did not just want to break the bond and “free” Umbra. They wanted to destroy Carla. Body and soul. Alexei’s expression changed, becoming dark, and the black smoke rose again up his arm. The Grand Master raised his hand. “Let us praise the age of Oblivion.” ***

Kaelen demanded, his hand moving to the hilt of his broken sword. "It’s in the Tower of the First Auditor," the old man said, pointing toward a spire of black glass that rose out of the desert miles away. "But be warned: to carry the Weight, you have to feel it. If your heart isn't strong enough to hold the sorrow of an entire world, it will crush you into a diamond the size of a grain of sand." We reached the tower as the silver sky began to turn a deep, bruised charcoal. The structure didn't have a door; it had a mirror.