Zero With Line Through It Novels & Stories

He squinted, unsure. “It’s not finished yet, that’s why you don’t see it. We’ve only walked three points. But a fourth point would complete it.” I drew a straight line to complete the pattern. His jaw dropped as he recognized it. “A cross,” he said quietly. “We were meant to walk in the shape of a cross.” “Yes,” I said excitedly. “And if we follow the line, if we complete the cross symmetrically, it only leads to one place.” We both followed the line I drew.

The gardener looked at me with a mix of pity and horror. "Dig it up. The smell stinks." My voice was indifferent. Watching the tree crash down, its roots—connected to the earth's ley lines—exposed to the air, I felt nothing but relief. I returned to the study and found the Blood Oath scrolls and cards Ethan had written to me. I shoved them, stack by stack, into the magical shredding array. The array hummed, and the sweet nothings that once made my wolf's heart race instantly turned into meaningless dust.

Zero can’t you help me? ‘I apologize but I cannot unless you’d like to purchase an item to help?’ Dina brightened up at this, asking, “Which item?” “Unfortunately, your balance is too low, would you like to borrow?” “Fuck off (╬凸｀∩´)凸” “Affirmative.”

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At th

I ordered, voice barely above a whisper but firm, echoing in the space like a defiant tide. Jake groaned, annoyance creasing his brow. "Still, it's not sinking in," he grumbled, reluctantly shifting aside while casting a perplexed glance at the floor. His retort faded into the peripheral background as I knelt, the marks in the dirt pulling me into their silent narrative. There, inscribed into the earth, were lines etched with deliberate intensity—paths of desperation, records of time gone unnoticed. Five lines, each slashed across by a sixth, formed the unmistakable symbols of counting, stark against the dust.

"And bring the mate. I want a full debriefing. It seems our new asset has attracted more... attention... than we anticipated." The comm clicked off. The message was clear. This was my fault. I'd brought this down on us. On him. Zero's fingers were still wrapped around my wrist, his grip feeble but insistent. His eyes found mine again, the gold dim but intense. "Not your fault," he breathed, as if he'd plucked the thought right from my head. "He was waiting... for us. For you." They fashioned a makeshift stretcher from a length of pipe and a torn vest. As they carefully lifted Zero onto it, he gritted his teeth against a cry of pain. His head lolled toward me, his eyes struggling to stay open

The Guardian of the Maze At the center of the valley, they encountered the "Apex Node"—a massive, three-pronged tower that was still pulsing with a rhythmic, "Dominating" blue light. Standing at its base was a "Broken Asset" that made Ethan’s blood turn to "Zero-Point" ice.

And looked. The pink lily across her back was lush and vibrant; she could almost catch the scent of its delicate petals as they unfurled. The leaves were a cool, dark green, the pollen was a warm gold. She looked hard, she really searched, but that ugly word that Gideon had inked into her back was hidden, it was gone, replaced by something breathtakingly lovely. Zoe had so cleverly used the lines and curves of those awful four letters to draw the petals and the leaves, and somehow she had completely covered over, erased, destroyed the word.

“…had intention.” Charlotte’s skin prickled. “You think someone was trying to contact us?” “No.” Darrien’s expression hardened. “I think someone was looking for us.” The room fell silent. Charlotte’s pulse quickened again. James crossed to the whiteboard mounted on the wall. He drew three circles. Intertwined. Then another circle several inches away. “If we’re the bridge…” He drew a line from the fourth circle toward the center. “…someone just knocked.” Charlotte stared at the drawing.

Mark says, tapping the floor with his fingers, the other hand on his knee. “Alright… mmm… I don’t know. Stand up and drink to this line without stopping,” I order, pointing at the bottle. For some reason, Mark takes off his purple sweater. I can’t help but follow his bare torso with the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen him like this. He has tattoos like Sam, well-defined muscles, and a small infinity tattoo below his navel. I swallow hard and glance discreetly at Sam. He’s been silent, pupils dilated, gaze lost.