Oblivious Book Novels & Stories

he said, his voice cheerful but flat, like a recorded message. Liora reached out with her senses. Where there should have been a tapestry of memories, joy, anger, love, sorrow, there was only a single, repeating note. A bland, contented hum. It was the most terrifying emptiness she had ever felt. "This is the work of the Oblivion," the Remnant murmured. "It has learned from your actions. It knows that powerful, painful memories can be anchored and used against it. So, it is creating memories with no power at all. Memories with no pain, no joy, no depth. A world of pleasant nothingness. A story with no conflict, and therefore, no heart."

“Child, open your eyes for me, look around and tell me if you know anybody here.” I opened my eyes slowly and looked around the small room. I see three women, two of them were dressed in nun outfits, one looked older than the other. The third woman was dressed casually. There was also a little boy that seemed too interested in the toy he was holding. They were all strangers. “No, I don’t know anybody here.” I responded. The younger nun gasped in shock. “I feared this will happen.” the doctor said to the older nun. “I’m afraid she has developed amnesia.”

That night, Liora dreamed of fire and moonlight — and a voice calling softly: > Liora … remember. --- The Hidden Book Years passed. Liora became quiet, thoughtful. The other children loved her, but they didn’t understand her. She often wandered to the ruins at the edge of the village — a crumbling temple swallowed by vines. Inside, she found an old, dust-covered book. Its cover was etched with one word: Remembrance. When she opened it, the pages glowed faintly. The words rearranged themselves into light as she read.

This time, words appeared across the last blank page of the book, written in red, as if by invisible hands: “Blood will answer blood.” Olivia screamed and stumbled back. Ethan grabbed her shoulders, holding her upright. The storm outside roared louder, rattling the glass. Somewhere beyond the thunder, a woman’s voice, soft, broken, and familiar, called her name. “Olivia…” Her mother’s voice. Olivia’s knees buckled. The room spun. And then, with a crash of thunder, the lamp exploded, plunging them into darkness. The book lay open on the floor, glowing faintly red. And on its glowing pages, new words appeared by themselves:

Every time the building’s pipes groaned, every time the wind rattled the glass, his muscles tensed. The light in the corner flickered again. Just once, but enough to twist the knife of paranoia deeper into his chest. He closed the book, rubbed at his temple. And then it came — that prickle. The unmistakable awareness of being seen. Not the casual glance of a passerby, but a steady, intent gaze that sank into your skin like heat from a fire. He swallowed, his eyes moving instinctively toward the window. There was no one there. He almost laughed, except the sound caught in his throat. Get a grip, Adrian.

If it were in my power, I would've gotten rid of them long time ago. Unfortunately, the only thing we have in common is autonomy. They can do whatever they want, when they want. So when Liam tells me they’ve arrived unannounced, I already know this isn’t some courtesy call. They’re here because something slipped through their fingers. Alex probably didn't go down as quietly as they wanted. --- The chamber feels smaller with them inside it. Five elders, seated in a half-circle, robes heavy with sigils they no longer understand. Their scents blend together. Old parchment, dry earth, and sanctimony. None of them meet my eyes at first.

She had made her choice, and she would not dwell on things that could not be changed. On a quiet afternoon, Lyra found herself in the heart of an ancient library—a place she had visited many times before in her quests for forgotten memories. The library was vast, its shelves filled with scrolls and tomes that stretched back through the ages, documenting the lives, histories, and memories of countless souls. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by shafts of light that filtered through the tall windows. It was a place of peace, a sanctuary for those seeking knowledge.

The way he meticulously adjusted his glasses and brushed a finger across the pages suggested a deep commitment to whatever was printed on them, as if the very fate of the universe lay within those black and white lines. Olivia stole a glance in his direction, her heart racing with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. His expression was inscrutable, marked by an unnerving calmness that chilled her. It felt as though he was deliberately erecting an invisible barrier between them, one she could neither see nor cross. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud, and Olivia struggled to bear it any longer.

"Hmm... Where am I?" Iris opened her eyes to find herself somewhere else. She was in a strange place she had never visited before. "What is this place?" Iris whispered softly as she looked around in confusion. The entire place was white. No sky. No visible ground. Only a thin mist stretching endlessly. She frowned uneasily and began walking slowly. "Your Majesty...?" No answer. Even her voice sounded strange here. Distant. Distorted. She unconsciously tightened her grip on the necklace around her neck.

Two days remained until the alignment of the three moons. The Obsidian Tower felt like a powder keg ready to ignite. Servants moved with nervous haste. Guards patrolled in larger groups. Even the floating crystals seemed to flicker with unease, as if the realm’s magic sensed the approaching fracture. Lyra spent the morning in a tense strategy meeting at Kaelith’s side. The atmosphere was poisonous.