Oblivion Carry Weight Novels & Stories

At least until I figure out what to do next. Carrying the corpse of a former close friend was undoubtedly one of the most challenging tasks I had ever undertaken. The weight of the lifeless body felt heavy on my shoulders and soul. To make matters worse, I could sense the piercing stare of another friend, burdened with the responsibility of carrying the unconscious mate of the dead man, drilling into my back.

The weight of responsibility rests on my shoulders, but I am ready to bear it. Arriving at the pack house, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation as my team members join me, their expressions mirroring my own determination. We exchange brief nods, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation. Together, we meticulously gather all the necessary supplies and essentials for our mission. Maps, flashlights, first aid kits—each item is carefully selected and packed, ensuring that we are fully equipped to face whatever lies ahead. The weight of the backpack on my shoulders serves as a constant reminder of the task that awaits us.

“And one can’t lead with their mind stuck in the past. Or with a heart full of fractures.” He leaned back slightly, as if nothing particularly heavy had been said. “Sometimes, moving on… isn’t about feeling again. It’s about choosing who’ll help carry the weight. Even if it’s not love. Even if it’s just… alliance.” Benjamin remained still. But something in his breathing had changed. Deeper. More deliberate. As if his body was trying to do what his soul couldn’t—stabilize. The office was in shadows. Not because of a lack of light, but an excess of darkness.

It sparked against her palm, resonating in her mind like a voice half-formed: “Balance. Or oblivion. “It’s communicating,” Ari whispered, eyes wide “Not with words,” Siran said. “With potential. And choice. Every person alive now carries a thread of Iluren.” Kaima exhaled. “Then the world itself is its canvas. And we’re the first brushstrokes.” The three of them fell silent, contemplating the weight of responsibility. For the first time, the implications hit them fully: this was no longer a local conflict, a battle within Hollowreach or the Circle of Binding. This was the bloom deciding how reality itself would remember.

I said, when we reached the inner yard. "Tomorrow," Rollins agreed. Not about the names. About what came after them. The ordinary work of keeping on, the pack, the current, the allied territories still sending their occasional word through the network now running warm in all directions. The second player sealed. The boundary empty. The grief returned. All of it done, and the world still here on the other side of it, asking to be lived in. I was not ready for that to feel light yet. I did not think it was supposed to. The weight was not something to shed. It was something to carry correctly.

The weight of this revelation, its implications and its ties to their own lives, settled heavily upon the trio's shoulders. As Morgana's voice trailed off, a profound silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. Violet felt as if the weight of the cosmos had suddenly been placed on her slender shoulders. The magnitude of her role in this ancient tale, intertwined with her very existence, was both a privilege and a burden. She, who had often grappled with the silent echoes of her dormant wolf spirit, found herself thrust into a narrative far grander and more intricate than any she had ever dared to imagine.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't the same naive Lydia Cohen anymore. If she wanted to play games, I'd play better. I had been slaughtered at my in-laws' house in my last life, and my father died without an intact body. I was going to make her pay, one thing at a time.

They were damned if they remembered, and damned if they forgot. As Elara tended to Ashiel’s wound, Liora looked out into the darkening highlands. The war against Oblivion was not just fought with hope and rain. It was fought with pain, and sacrifice, and the terrible, necessary weight of a past that refused to stay buried.

After all, even he could not understand how my mind worked. But fortunately, I did not disappoint him this time as I shook my head at them. "You aren't truly sorry. You're just scared of Theodore's retribution. You're only worried about yourselves. My obliviousness is just a way to protect myself. But now that I know you wanted to hurt me, I won't let this be." Only then did I understand why I had become so oblivious. Back at the orphanage, many adults had said we were children who had been abandoned. There had been plenty of bullying among the children too.

​The Weight of the Global Ground ​Back on Earth, the "First Morning" had turned into a "Day of Labor." In the Sahara, Kael and the Terrestrials sat in a massive circle around the Obsidian Pillar, their hands joined. In the Bowery, Lyra stood at the center of the Scriptorium, her small body glowing with a fierce, indigo light. ​"We feel it, Mama," Thomas’s voice came back, strained and heavy. "It’s like the whole world just gained ten thousand tons of weight. The 'Presence' is pouring in. The ink is flowing into the soil. It’s... it’s Solidifying."