NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 59: Chapter 53: The Story That Was Never Written
Where do stories go when they are forgotten?
Yeaia Nolas drifted through the Dream That Waits, their body weightless, their mind stretched across the edges of reality. They no longer walked on solid ground—there was none. Instead, the world around them shifted, a vast sea of ink and parchment, swirling together in incomplete sentences and half-formed ideas.
This was not a place that could be reached by normal means. It existed beyond the flow of time, outside the weave of fate, where even the gods themselves rarely ventured.
This was the Archive of the Unwritten.
The place where stories were abandoned.
Where forgotten myths crumbled into dust.
Where the echoes of names that never existed lingered, waiting to be spoken once more.
And yet, even here, Yeaia felt… incomplete.
Like a book with missing pages.
Like a dream that was never supposed to wake.
Who am I?
What am I?
They reached out, their fingers brushing against the shifting ink, and suddenly—
It remembered them.
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A Forgotten Memory
The pages of reality tore open.
Yeaia was no longer floating.
They were standing—or rather, they had been placed—in the middle of an unfinished moment.
It was a city they had never seen before, but one that felt… familiar.
Black iron street lamps flickered under a cloudy sky. The cobblestone streets were damp from rain that had not yet fallen. And there—just beyond the alleyway—stood two figures.
Yeaia did not recognize them.
And yet, they knew their names.
Leonard Mitchell. Anthony Stevenson.
People who should have been strangers.
People who should not have known them.
And yet, as the scene unfolded, Yeaia saw something that made their heart freeze—
They were speaking to them.
No—they were speaking about them.
"They shouldn't exist," Anthony muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the city. "And yet, here they are."
Leonard frowned, his crimson gaze flickering with a mixture of curiosity and unease. "Did we forget them?"
"No," Anthony replied softly. "I think we were made to forget."
The words struck Yeaia like a thunderclap.
They staggered, breath hitching, as the dreamscape trembled around them.
This was not a memory from their own mind.
This was something buried.
Something deliberately erased.
A secret that the world itself had tried to forget.
And yet—why was it resurfacing now?
Yeaia's mismatched eyes burned.
The ink and paper around them collapsed, unraveling like threads in a tapestry.
The dream was breaking.
And at the center of it all—
Someone was watching.
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The Fool's Gaze
Above the gray fog, Klein Moretti(?) sat in quiet contemplation. His throne, a lonely seat in the vast, infinite void, was surrounded by towering, illusory cards—representations of fate, pathways, and destinies already written. Yet, tonight, something unwritten stirred among them.
A single thread, frayed and out of place, whispering of something that should not be.
Klein narrowed his eyes.
He had long since come to terms with the idea that there were things he could not remember—things erased, hidden, or rewritten by forces beyond even gods. But this was different.
This wasn't something from the past.
It was something trying to return.
A presence that should not exist.
And yet, the longer he focused on it, the more it demanded to be known.
The gray mist trembled, shifting in a way it never had before. Klein could hear something—no, someone—breaking through the veil. A voice he did not recognize, but one that carried weight, defiance, and a lingering familiarity.
A presence that was forcing its way back into reality.
Klein leaned forward, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his armrest.
This wasn't an accident.
This wasn't a simple forgotten dream.
This was a challenge.
And he had never been one to ignore a mystery.
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The Dream That Fights Back
Yeaia gasped as the dream fractured, the ink and paper around them turning to mist.
They could feel it—something was trying to erase them again.
Something far beyond their understanding.
But this time, they would not let it.
Not again.
Not when they were so close.
The Dream That Waits stirred, no longer a passive observer, but a force of will.
For the first time, Yeaia spoke—
Not in a whisper.
Not in uncertainty.
But in defiance.
"I will not be erased."
The dream exploded, shattering like glass.
And Yeaia Nolas…
Woke up.
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End of Chapter 53
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