Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint| Orv Novels & Stories

"He is going to come north. Not as an Alpha. Not to manage or direct. To use his function for the right thing." Zane held my gaze. He said: "For the founding ground." "Yes," I said. He was quiet. He said: "You need a possibility reader." "Yes," I said. He said: "The deep sight shows you the full shape of what is broken. Lyra sees how the pieces connect. The Keepers address the individual situations." He held my gaze. "But the deep sight is a picture of what is. The possibility reader sees what could become." "Yes," I said.

"Or something like a god. Not a person, not a being with intentions. Just—a presence. A quality of the universe that allows time to repeat, that allows stories to be told and retold, that watches because watching is what it does." Clara thought about her previous life. About the novels she had read, the stories that had repeated across genres and authors and centuries. About the way readers return to the same stories again and again, watching the same characters make the same choices, hoping for a different outcome that never came. "The watcher is the reader," Clara said. "Not a person—the act of reading. The attention that makes a story real. The loop ran because someone was watching it. Be

Chapter 70: Author's POV The wind whipped along the measureless trees of snow, its cold breath nipping at Orin’s cloak. He was next to a cliff, above the brodom of the daunting horizon. He could see the landscape stretch before him, a horizon of white, with the mountains in the distance standing tall, yet silent. It had been a land that once belonged to him — and would again.

A pause. “You’re looking in the wrong direction.” “Who the hell are you?!” I bellowed. The scent… the presence… it was everywhere. It coiled like smoke around my mind. I couldn’t lock onto him—couldn’t sense him. “What the fuck is this creep?” Scott barked, spinning like a madman. “I can feel him. I can feel him everywhere!” “This is Omniscient,” Sylvia said, her voice oddly calm. “I’ve read about it. A rare skill… the user creates a mental realm and drags others inside. It can be physical, spiritual—or mental. We’re inside his constructed space.”

I explained. “Crap.” Orel cursed. “Don’t worry about your wife Orel, she has a good head on her shoulders and she has a third eye watching and guiding her.” “Cory?” Orel said with distaste. “No, her goddess.” I replied simply and kept quiet, I was done talking. Orel could handle the rest of his thought process by himself. ******************************************************** THEMIS POV

Only fire. “Let’s go for a swim before the sun goes down?” he asks, his mismatched-colored eyes elated. Though, I’ve never swum in a sea before—only the cold, still lakes near the orphanage, I nervously agree. Orvyn wears only trunks. His body is all muscle, with veins along his arms and torso. His abs are carved like stone. His face—strong and handsome—makes it hard to overlook too. But then there’s me.

"I can't remember having experienced all this. The Oracle kept his eyes on him, examining her, reading his life story, most likely. But if I had ever understood anything, I knew that the Oracle did not have the power to write and define the life story of supernatural creatures. This, as far as I thought I understood, was the work of the heavenly beings more powerful than her. Even so, she watched him with intensity, from his hair to the damaged thoracic part of his armor.

A pulse that made every wolf in the camp bow their heads instinctively, their wolves recognizing something older and higher than pack law. Richard staggered back a step, his heart hammering. “By the gods…” His jaw slackened. He had seen Ophelia fight and seen Aaron in action, but this was something else. “They seem… different.” The Oracle didn’t move, but her lips curved into the faintest, knowing smile. Her eyes flickered briefly to Richard before returning to the pair. “Not different, complete.”

Corven’s voice carried across the square, smooth, taunting, dripping with calculated menace. “Olivia. Ethan. The city whispers of your influence… but whispers can die quickly. Dominance is not given—it is taken. Are you ready for the cost?” Olivia stepped forward, calm, her presence commanding the square. “Dominion is not force. It is foresight, strategy, and the ability to guide others toward shared success. Chaos may threaten, but order endures when guided by intelligence, vision, and unity.” The crowd murmured, uncertainty flickering in the faces of Corven’s supporters. Olivia sensed the hesitation, exploiting it subtly, guiding perception as deftly as a chess master maneuvers pieces acro

she said with a sad smile. “So as you said,” she gestured to Dominic, “The oracles will receive their visions based on the species they are and who their leader is. For example, a werewolf oracle will receive the visions pertaining to their pack Alpha and what will benefit them.” I nodded to show it made sense. It was the connection that mattered.