Oblivion Through A Nightmare Darkly Novels & Stories

“The journal has more secrets. The blood only revealed the first layer. There are other textures, other papers I haven’t been able to… activate.” His hand came down on my shoulder. Not a caress. A claim. His fingers pressed into my flesh, a deliberate, possessive weight. “Then find the next layer.” The command was absolute. But beneath the iron control, I heard it—a thread of something new. Not just hunger for the legacy. Hunger for this. For my mind working, for the secrets I pulled from the darkness. “I will need to try different things,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The blood opened one door. Perhaps other… reagents… will open others.”

around me taking care of me. I'm not going to deny that I have enemies, I'm the fucking leading son of a bitch of Darkness obviously I have enemies, they're just too smart or too cowardly to try something stupid against me, some have done it I'm not going to lie, in fact the last attempt to kill me where I was really in danger was where Max got hurt, which is why she was out of the game for a while. On that occasion a group hired by the fucking gangsters tried to take my head to their boss, unfortunately for them we knew about the operation so they did not achieve their goal but there were casualties and injuries, including Max.

At first, it's only a faint whisper like a brush against my ear, but then it becomes louder and stronger until it's screaming, calling me home — the call of the gate. I'm not aware of the smoke and darkness surrounding me and filling the room, because right now, darkness is all I can see as my mind travels toward the call. My mind shifts through the darkness fast, black thick clouds whip past my vision. A faint orange glow is visible in the distance, and the further I go toward the call, the brighter and redder it becomes until I suddenly break through the darkness and see the flames of hell and the burning red gate covered in black soot.

I pushed it open silently and entered. It was everything I had expected. The exact opposite of my room. The themes here were black and grey. Black furniture, grey walls, grey and white beddings. The air conditioning was off, but it was so damn cold in here, the air so tight I could hardly breathe. Or it was just the fact that I knew my presence here was wrong. It was much bigger than my room, obviously. And I liked it. I was someone who suffered from nightmares, but paradoxically, the darkness here, was calming.

I had trained hard day and night, yet to no avail. On the other hand, Sylvia, who experienced difficulty in a basic shift, had passed the toughest examination along with Leo. Hannah patted me on the back with her weathered hand. "Elena, it's fortunate you came here in time. Once the switch begins, it would be impossible to reverse the effects—that's the darkest nature of the cursed statue. "You'll have to bear the fate of the other party. If Sylvia gets injured, the same wound would be inflicted on you, but worse."

I gritted my teeth. "We can't fight them all," I gasped. "We *have* to," Lucas said. His blade swung again, cutting through another rogue like it was nothing. The world around us was a nightmare. Blood soaked the streets. Flames burned bright, licking up the sides of buildings. The screams had faded now, replaced with low, guttural growls. The rogues were circling us. Waiting. And then— The air changed. It got *heavier*. Colder.

I glanced around, but there was nothing there—just the same desolate landscape of the Underworld stretching out in all directions. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. It clung to me like a second skin, making it impossible to relax. I closed my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, to will myself into sleep. But as soon as my eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness came alive with whispers. Faint at first, barely audible, like a distant breeze. But they grew louder, more insistent, until they were a cacophony in my head. “Ava…”

The elders, once venerable figures, became harbingers of spectral torment. And amid this surreal nightmare, I stood, an unwitting protagonist ensnared in the throes of a dreamscape turned awry. As suffocating tendrils of inky blackness ensnared my fleeing feet, constricting like vengeful serpents, anchoring me to the nightmare that unfolded. The once serene sky, now swallowed by an encroaching abyss, descended into an unsettling pitch-black void. Panic coursed through my veins as the world around me warped into an otherworldly realm, a grotesque distortion of the familiar.

“But don’t let it blind you. That’s how they win.” Then he turned, leaving me alone on the bed as he sank into the chair by the window. ***** It was midnight, and at some point, exhaustion dragged me under. But even in sleep, there was no escape. The nightmare found me quickly. My parents lay there again, sprawled lifeless on the floor, the dark stain of their blood creeping toward me. Their open eyes seemed to follow me as I stumbled back, whispering apologies they couldn’t hear. Then, from the corner of the room, a figure emerged—a silhouette darker than the shadows around it. It moved closer, its voice curling through the air like smoke.

That night— Elian dreamed. --- But it did not feel like a dream. --- Cold wind brushed against his skin as he slowly opened his eyes. Darkness stretched endlessly around him. Not ordinary darkness. This place felt alive. Breathing. Watching. --- Elian frowned softly as he stood barefoot upon black water. Ripples spread beneath his feet despite not sinking. The sky above him was crimson. Not sunset crimson. Blood crimson. And far in the distance— A massive throne stood atop a mountain of obsidian stone.