Vanished Aesthetics Novels & Stories

I looked up after sending the message. The comments in the air were blurring, like static on a television with a bad signal. "What's happening? I can't see…" "The story fell apart, so we're being forcefully removed!" "No! I haven't finished reading yet—" The last comment disappeared before it finished scrolling across my vision. All the lights in the room were switched on. I had no choice but to squint against the blinding glare. The music on the huge screen stopped and returned to the karaoke's usual interface.

More bids came up and she struggled to keep up. Shanice had been following keenly on Vinca's bids. She really wasn't interested in the vase as she was more of a modern, urban furnishing than old, antique figures. As the bidding got to 8 million, more people opted to drop out and only two people were left. She suddenly lifted her card and indicated 8.5 million. Frost turned to look at her but she pretended not to see the look. She intended to show Frost that she was way better than his date.

At noon, I returned to my workstation, ready to move everything out. Liam was the one who'd given me the asteroid ornament on my desk. He'd even sworn sincerely that I was his entire world back then. I smiled self-deprecatingly as I looked at the ornament. In the end, I still took it with me. Just as I was about to leave with the box of my belongings in my arms, Vivi suddenly walked into the office, looking anxious. "I'm sorry, everyone. I seem to have lost the necklace I was wearing today. Could I please ask all of you to cooperate for a routine inspection?" she asked.

“Now there is merely their essence, but that is enough. He looked at Dorin who was eagerly waiting for Seb to start speaking, then at Johan who was scowling as usual. “This building is old. Old things remember. Call them and tell them to return.” Sebastian closed his eyes in concentration. Words came into his mind, words that turn into names. He called brick and mortal, glass and iron, wood and stone, and commanded them to return. The platform rumbled and wound back into itself, the bricks lining up to build the individual rooms, the glass fixing itself into windows, the wood into floorboards and doors. The four kept their hands held together as the part they stood on became part of Dorin’s

They saw the spectral children shrieking in excruciating pain as Vane, with the steady hands of a jeweler, harvested their magic and their very skeletons while their hearts were still beating. The final image was a giant, translucent manifestation of Vane himself, hovering like a vengeful god over his own desk. He looked serene. There was a calm, satisfied smile on his face as he meticulously waxed and polished a freshly harvested, tiny femur to a sickening, ivory shine. He sat in a silence of his own making, utterly deaf to the carnage that had paved his way to immortality. "Fenn!" Leela wailed, her strength finally failing.

He didn't reply right away, just stared at her like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. She looked... radiant. In the months since she left him, Vanessa had transformed. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and she radiated confidence—a woman thriving, like a rose in full bloom. "Vanessa, can we talk? I know I was wrong. I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. Please, just... give me a chance to earn your forgiveness." Vanessa let out a sharp laugh. "Scott, wake up. There's nothing left. Go home. Don't come looking for me again."

The Aethel-Haven was a world caught in a Mid-Process Render. After the collapse of the obsidian monolith, the reality of the sanctuary had stabilized into a state of Somber Reconstruction. The gray, voxelated grass was slowly regaining its lavender hue, but the scars of the siege remained. Broken Sentinel carapaces littered the fields like the husks of giant beetles, and the once-musical waterfall now stuttered with a metallic, rhythmic glitch.

The man asked stammering as he looked in Boss’ eyes. “I would like to saunter myself.” The boss said taking off his coat and taking out the cap from his bag. He wore the cap and went out walking past the man by the door. He was wearing a total black attire making him look suspicious of himself. People on Island wore more bright and colorful dresses and they preferred colorful dresses and surrounding too over dull and black and gloomy ones. Roads had flowers on their sides giving a very beautiful view. But Boss hated the all the colors except Red. Of course he loved the color of blood very much.Afterall blood was his love.

The holographic projection of Silas Vance hung in the center of the Throne Room like a flickering, blue ghost. He looked older than the memories I had archived in the back of my mind, his hair a stark, surgical white and his eyes hidden behind high-tech ocular implants that probably calculated the price of my soul in real time. He stood with the effortless posture of a man who owned the air he breathed, a far cry from the father who had once sat by my bed and taught me the Latin names of the cranial nerves.

My reflection in the window looks like a stranger, one unraveling at the seams. And then the city delivers its cruelty. I see billboards tower over the streets, glowing in the winter fog: House of Valemont — Winter Collection. The first model staring back at me is Vivienne. Draped in silk, her face smug in its perfection, she leans against a desk—my desk—the ad so on-the-nose it feels like mockery. Another flashes by with Harry, looking sharp in a tailored coat, his hand clutching Vivienne’s waist as if to say: We won. We took it all.