Omniscient Reader Novel Art Novels & Stories

Hybrid Ryan's POV All our attention was now on Lisa and Vanessa as they dropped a big old rusty book on the table and were flipping the pages with force.The sound of mumbling incoherent words could also be heard,I could feel Tasha's nervousness each time they flipped the page. 'Hey whatever they find out you still belong to me.’ I told her through the mindlink. 'Thank you’’ She looked at me and replied through the link before her eyes went back to the book.

Now that I knew of the author, it was time to see the content. I pulled over off the road and stopped the car. The visibility of the storm had increased, making it impossible for me to continue driving safely. So, instead, I opened the journal and started reading. My eyes skimmed the words, keeping in mind that I was potentially reading from the perspective of an unreliable narrator. And soon enough, I found myself enraptured by the scenes they were depicting. Human on human wars, pacts between humans and supernatural beings, werewolves, Kindred…Human Hunters.

He looked at Nora, then at Elia, who was staring at the sensors in total disbelief. ​"Kael," Elia said, her voice trembling. "The Ink-Man... he didn't just leave. He left a Coordinates-Stamp in the ship’s log." ​Kael walked to the console. The coordinates didn't point to a star or a galaxy. They pointed to a location outside the known universe. ​A place called The Reader’s Eye. ​"He wasn't the Author," Kael whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "He was just a Proxy. The 'Eric Parsley' we saw was just a character he created to talk to us."

“This book is written by the Ancient One, my master. He taught me some of the language used here, maybe I could give it a try.” Hearing him, the omega’s face brightened up like a brightly lit lamp. He stood by his side like an obedient disciple and held the glass of water in it. Calhoun held the book wide open in one hand, balancing the heavy book in it while with the other hand he dipped his finger in the water glass and sprinkled some of it while reading the text in his mind. As if on cue, he saw something swirl in front of him, like a cloud of smoke but it was gone before he could even look at it clearly.

That was Leo. We were "Stains." We were "Errors." Above us, the girl—the Reader—was no longer just a person. She was a titan. Her face was a landscape of pale skin and wide, dark eyes that reflected the red light now pulsing from the walls. She held the plastic ballpoint pen like a spear. On her forearm, the words she had written were glowing with a bruised, sickly heat. ***"Chapter 59: The Reader Becomes the Villain."***

But suddenly, he felt an invisible force telling him to open the book again. Eleand scanned the pages for the second time. He identified a drawing of a moon waxing crescent on a random page and gently touched it along with the inscriptions. What the heck is this? To his great astonishment, the ancient inscriptions moved! He almost dropped the book as he flinched. It caught him in awe when he tried to look at its page because the inscription changed to a modern roman alphabet easier for him to read. Chambre…Siego…Niptoumi… Eleand continued reading. Until the words from his mouth progressed, he could not simply stop. His vision went obscured. Everything went dark.

He wiped me down with clumsy care, taught himself to cook plain porridge, and slept on a narrow folding chair by my bed every night, fully dressed, just to be near. The day I was discharged, sunlight bathed the seaside town in gold. Nathan pushed my wheelchair, a cashmere blanket he had bought draped over me. Six months later, he rented the only art gallery in town and sponsored my very first solo exhibition. He named it 'Rebirth'. The bright, spacious hall was filled with the work I had poured my soul into for half a year. Storm-dark seas before a tempest. Iridescent light shimmering on rocks after rain. A daisy blooming toward the sun from a bookstore window.

As I continued through the book, the daylight faded behind me. The images of the bloodied war shift to the image of a woman wrapped in silk like clothes, adorned in jewels, with a crown sitting atop her head. I flipped back to the cover, it was the same image just in more detail on the page. Her beauty seemed transcendent, the artist must have been bewitched by her beauty to be able to make the reader fall into such a state of awe that I’ve found myself in.

images began to appear. Not memories. The future. Cities swallowed by endless pages. Stars turning into words. Entire galaxies collapsing into unwritten books. Then one final vision emerged. A figure sat upon a throne made from broken stories. Its face remained hidden. But in its hand... was Adrian's pen. The room trembled. The notebook began writing without anyone touching it. The Author has returned. Another line followed. Now the Reader must choose. Adrian frowned. "The Reader?" Before anyone could answer... a faint sound echoed outside the room.