Touching The Void Book Novels & Stories

A stinging pain lashed across my shoulder, I gasped, stumbling forward into the dirt, Koran had struck me with a training rod, a solidified length of shadow that felt like a whip made of ice. "Too slow, you’re waiting for the danger to find you," his voice whispered from the right, though a second later I felt his presence on my left, "The Void doesn't ask for permission, Vesper, it simply exists, and the universe is forced to fill it, stop being a sponge, become the leak."

The noise stopped in my head but one question popped up, why did the girl sit behind me where there were so many vacant chairs inside? The question faded when I realized that was not my concern. So, I went back to reading until such time I finished doing my research. When I was done, I gathered all the books I took, I even fixed my jacket. When I was about to bring them back to the shelves, I stood up and carried them when accidently, the girl and I bumped to each other. So, technically, he touched me, I touched her. Due to excessive fear combined with surprise, I froze like I was under a spell wherein I was motionless. I could not even breathe; the fact that we touched each other, for sure,

One afternoon I found Void reading through the entries alone. The Hall buzzed quietly around him. Lantern flowers glowing. Visitors wandering between displays. Life happening. He turned another page carefully. Another story. Another arrival. Another person choosing hope despite everything. "You like it," I said. Void looked up. "I tolerate it." Lies. Transparent lies. I sat beside him anyway. The Book rested open across our laps. Hundreds of names filled the pages now. Hundreds of journeys ending and beginning simultaneously. Hope sighed contentedly. "The constellation was right."

“I’m just looking.” He wasn’t just looking. His right hand slid lower, between her legs, and she felt the blunt pressure of his fingers trying to push between her folds. She was dry from fear, and the touch burned. He forced one finger inside her anyway, short and rough. Mira’s breath left her in a sharp sound. “Tight,” he muttered. “Even better.”

he replied, his voice a low rumble that resonated with a depth of feeling I couldn't quite decipher. Just then, I saw Daryl approaching, his silhouette outlined against the dim glow of the chapel windows. Daryl's arms enveloped me in a warm embrace as soon as he reached me, his familiar scent of cedarwood and leather a grounding presence amidst the swirling emotions. I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, seeking solace in the comforting weight of his body. I ran my hand through his hair, the soft strands a tangible reminder of the life that continued even as I mourned the loss of another.

It was a promise. The kind that ends in ash. Then— Flick! It was just a snap. Sharp. Precise. Almost playful. But the moment it sounded— The fireball unraveled. Not burst. Not extinguished. It simply ceased to exist. One heartbeat, there was a roaring sphere of flame threatening to devour the corridor. The next—it was gone. No embers. No smoke. Not even heat. The ambient magic sucked inward, like the flame had been yanked into a vacuum between heartbeats. The sudden absence cracked through the hall louder than any explosion.

I manage to make it into the shower and turn the tap on before slumping to the floor. The waters so cold it makes my teeth clatter and my skin to break out in goosebumps. But the fire’s still burning. It burns my fingertips against my drenched clothes. It burns my touching thighs. It burns a path on my cheeks from the silent tears. It burns my lungs with every laboured breath. The perfect leather bound book scent hits me and sweet relief engulfs me the moment warm hands cup my cheeks. “Danika?” His voice is panicked. “What’s wrong?” He wipes the tears form my cheeks and I sob in relief.

recited the lorth entertainer as he tore out another page. Over his palm, a dark empty twisting showed up. A comparable void created over a tree near him when he pointed his different arms towards it. The void that had been waiting over the tree started to drop and immerse it entirety. The tree started to grow out of the vacancy and shoot towards Rhaizen Storm as the mage pointed his palm towards him.

--- For the first time— --- Desperate. The void rippled violently. --- The fall stuttered— --- Just for a second. --- A disruption. --- A refusal. --- “You don’t get to disappear,” the voice said. --- A pause— --- Strained. --- “Not like this.” --- Something reached for her. --- Not a hand. --- Not physical. --- But real. --- A pull— --- Against the downward force. --- Against the void itself. --- Her body reacted slightly. --- A flicker of movement.

Clarissa said, and I blinked, surprised. If he was being affected by the void, it made sense how I'd always felt that we were similar. "The void is the space between life and death. It lies between existence and non-existence. Most of the energies emitted from the darkest emotions are usually sucked into that place," I said. "Do you think it's a coincidence that the void was ripped open on the night you were shifting?" My mate asked, her voice laced with worry. I threw my arm over my eyes, my chest heaving. "It was definitely not a coincidence. I have a feeling that someone did that on purpose."