Read Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint Novels & Stories

Hale's gaze is pinned to Will's hand around mine, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Do you know how rare they are? None of us know anyone who has contact with a Gaze Reader," I remind everyone. I've only read about Gaze Reader's and their magical powers. They are able to look into someone's gaze and read their past, and aspects of their future. If anyone could tell us where to go to find true help, it would be a Gaze Reader. “What about…” Eyla glances at Hale, who quirks a brow. “Don’t look at me," he shrugs. He's clearly entertained, watching us scramble to find a way to save my life. He knows there is no chance for us anywhere other than with him, and he is patiently waiting for us to

Jayden's pitch-black eyes had a gold line right down the center of his eyeballs and it made anyone who looked at him feel paralyzed for a moment. Owen is an omega and he knows only an ultimate alpha has eyes like that. To fellow alphas, those ghastly eyes wouldn't be too scary, but to an omega, beta, and normal human, those eyes would be a nightmare for them. Ricky hit the counter, softly but hard, so that Owen could feel the vibrations. "Tell me, where is that woman?" Out of the corner of his eye, Owen saw three large visitors rise from their seats and stare at him. Owen opened a drawer under the counter and took out a key.

The names of the Readers were turning into a solid, glowing "Ink Black." One of the "Readers" from the ship—a man in a modern black hoodie—jumped from the prow and landed in the courtyard. He didn't have gold eyes, and he didn't have silver eyes. He had eyes of "Pure Ink." He looked at Kaelen, and a cold, mercury-smile touched his lips. "The 'First Sentence' is beautiful, Genesis," the man said, his voice sounding like a thousand pages turning at once. "But did you forget the 'Disclaimer'? The 'Reader' doesn't just watch. Sometimes, the 'Reader' wants to be the 'Villain'."

With the fear of hitting someone in the head is she just let it go, she put the jar back to one of the shelves and think to herself that after this fall, she might as well stumble and falls down a seemingly endless staircase. Words that means not just a story, now something that can be read straight out of a story book. But it was the words that means so much to the character of this world and book that HE wrote and looking out carefully, for it describes and foreshadow their current lives and the inevitable future. “I see.” He whispers. Falling, or perhaps he already did. Somehow being summoned by a force he could not recognize or name. He tightens his grip, observing and knows that, the pe

“Observe. Respond. Endure. Awareness threads through heat, scrutiny, and claim. You are theirs entirely, even under their gaze.” The scouts stepped closer. Tension tightened in the air as their stares grew bolder. The taller scout with cold gray eyes crossed his arms and sneered. “So this is the great claimed omega? Already leaking like a desperate slut before anything even starts. Pathetic.” I knelt, chest rising and falling unevenly. Heat flared low and sharp in my core. Every twitch, every quiver, every breath was layered under the attention of the three alphas, tethered and owned. Fresh slick leaked hot and slippery down my thighs, the wet sound faintly audible in the charged silence.

The description revealed. Don said: "She was already inside the accumulation. The book showed her the name for what she was already inside." Ernest nodded. This was the argument of the four books in its most concentrated form. The reader does not need to be given the thing. The reader needs to be shown that the thing is already there. The reader needs the description that makes visible what the reader has been looking at without recognition for forty years.

I whisper to the book before flipping through the pages and stopping on one suddenly. I begin reading the passage out loud. “Oh, my dear, sometimes we look at a situation one way when we truly need to look at it in another way. Try looking from a different point of view or multiple points of view. The amount of common answers will be your answer for this situation.” This could work for so many things. Such simple information, yet it is profound coming from a dead woman. “Thanks again, Mom,” I whisper to the journal before locking it back away in my safe.

My Guards assure me he's still there, which means at least that he's not escaping. I can't shake the uneasy feeling though. It's completely drained me. “I'm going to see a Gaze Reader,” I mutter of a spoon of cereal. Gaze Readers are magical beings from the Devotion Pack. They have the ability to look into your eyes and see what you have seen, and what you will. I need to know if what I've been seeing is real, or just a fabrication in my mind. “I suppose that's an option,” Cal mused, giving me an immediate feeling that he's not fully opposed to the idea, however, seems speculative.

~Omniscient The tension in the courtyard didn’t break so much as it shifted. At Aeron’s words, the guards froze mid-step, their blades still gleaming in torchlight. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, with a flick of the Alpha’s hand, the soldiers lowered their weapons, though the distrust in their eyes lingered. Aeron’s gaze never wavered from the three intruders. His presence filled the night air, calm but commanding, the kind of authority that didn’t need to be shouted. “Follow me,” he said, his voice carrying like iron across stone. “We’ll speak inside.”

"This is the sequence. The gate opens. The demon rises. The witch becomes the Queen of the Wastelands, and the Saintess becomes the savior who destroys her. This is the ending. This is the only ending." I stared at the vision. At the blood crown. At the destroyed friends. At the particular horror of becoming everything I had fought against. And then I smiled. The sharp expression that Rina Vale had learned from a thousand villainess novels. The particular curvature of lips that said I had read this scene before and knew how it ended. "No," I said, and my voice carried through the labyrinth, through the geas, through the very narrative the Author was writing. "This is not my future. This is y