Oblivion Through A Nightmare Darkly Novels & Stories

"What do you mean by that?" "Phil, the danger is coming. Inhabitants of the abyss could not manifest inside the real world, they would vanish in a puff of smoke mere seconds after they exit the abyss, even the plains of sleep reject their presence and they only thrive inside the abyss. I knew something was wrong when you encountered the nightmare origin inside Annie's nightmare. It was only affected by the miasma from the twilight zone, but the strength of that nightmare origin could be classified as a lower-middle-class in terms of its standing in the abyss after it transformed."

Avery's POV The nightmare stretched on, the forest dissolving into an ocean of swirling mist and shadow. The ground beneath my feet shifted like quicksand, pulling me deeper into the darkness. The distant screams of Carolina echoed faintly, muffled and distorted, as if submerged beneath icy water. Suddenly, the air grew colder still, and a heavy fog parted to reveal a narrow, winding path lit by flickering, ghostly lanterns. Each step I took felt weightless, as if I were floating—adrift in a liminal space between reality and nightmare.

In the depths of her subconscious, a nightmare took hold. Ava found herself in a dense, shadowy forest. The trees whispered startling secrets, their twisted branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The air was stale with an otherworldly tension, and an ethereal haze clung to the ground, distorting reality. Ava's breath scampered as she helmed through the ominous landscape.

The second showed me in the Echo-Verse, reaching for Kael as his soul dissolved into mist but it was the third panel that froze my blood. I stood atop a pile of white bones. The Sunken Grove burned behind me. I wasn’t a savior in this vision. It was a nightmare. My painted eyes were pits of rotting obsidian, identical to the Shadow-Lyra’s. A crown of thorns rested on my head, dark blood streaming down my face. In my hands, I held a black, calcified heart leaking violet smoke. Beneath the image, a single line was carved into the obsidian. The letters glowed with a sickly, dying light.

Images of darkness and despair swirled in my mind, fueled by the haunting echoes of a nightmare that refused to release its grip. In the depths of my subconscious, I found myself ensnared in a chilling vision, one where Lucius, the ruthless alpha king, stalked through the shadows, his gaze alight with a malevolent fury. In my dream, he hunted me relentlessly, his presence a sinister specter that loomed over my every move. I jolted awake, my heart pounding against my chest, beads of sweat clinging to my skin like a shroud of fear. The remnants of the nightmare lingered, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of my past.

They were all here, swirling in a beautiful, chaotic storm of light and colour and sound. And cutting through it all, like a cancer, were veins of absolute blackness. The Oblivion. It wasn't attacking the memories. It was simply... unwatching them. Where its darkness touched, a memory would flicker and vanish, not with a scream, but with a sigh, as if it had never been important at all. In the very centre of this storm was a figure. It was not the Shadow King. That had just been a shell, a puppet. This was the thing that had worn him.

Horror blooms inside at not being able to tell whether my eyes were open or closed. ​I turn quickly and Sassy follows. I round the corner and light fills in a few spots of the darkness, retaking its place as shops and small homes come into sight. I lean against the wall, shielding myself from an attack from behind as my lungs fill themselves once more with the air they'd been deprived of in that moment. I look around, desperate to reassure myself that I could see things around me. There was light here; it was okay to be here.

Including the dreams that vanish like smoke but leave lingering impressions of significance once they wake up. ~ Thunder growls low in the distance, the sound crawling into awareness like an unwelcome intruder. In three separate locations, three men lie beneath tangled sheets, their bodies rigid with tension that has nothing to do with the approaching storm. The nightmare is back with a vengeance. It's stronger this time, darker, and for the first time in months of these shared visions, all three are experiencing it simultaneously with perfect clarity. The darkness shifts and gives way to a landscape of utter devastation. The sky looms heavy and bruised, swirling with storm clouds that seem

And just like that, my mind finds the darkness. Another nightmare. Another memory in order. Two sixteen am. I sit up in bed and rub my eyes, attempting to block out the last remnants of a sleep deprived moment. The nightmares are becoming more and more vivid. This time, I could swear I felt the broken ribs, the swollen eyes and lips, and the bruises all along my torso. That was the worst punishment father had ever given me and thanks to my insight with Jed. That was the same night father found out that Nicholas Cole, had played him.

“Please, stop looking like her.” Nyxara tilts her head, studying me with my mother’s face. “But it’s always worked before.” Rage flares hot and bright in my chest. “Not this time.” Something ugly flashes in her eyes. The air snaps. Nyxara lifts one delicate finger and flicks it downward. The arena answers. The floor splits open with a wet, tearing sound, and the darkness beneath it moves. Nightmares crawl up through the cracks, dozens of them, hundreds, dragging themselves into the light like puppets yanked forward by invisible strings.