Oblivion [MYTHICALS BOOK 2]

“Dear Cris,

Our hearts aren’t ready to accept that you’re gone.

I wish I could say this to your face, but you’re not here anymore. So I’m writing it instead.

I’m sorry.

I hurt you in ways I never meant to. And now I don’t know how to move forward.

If only you were here to guide me. To tell me what we’re supposed to do next.

I don’t know who’s more broken by your absence.

Shawn? He pretends he’s fine, but I see right through him. He lost the girl he loved—and never even got the chance to say it. I know he still sees your face every time he closes his eyes.

Liam? Disappeared. The last thing I heard, he went back down… and never came back.

And me? I turned to the bar.

My answer to everything. Grief. Guilt. Emptiness."

I was drunk when I wrote this letter. My chin slipped from my palm and hit the desk before I even realized I’d fallen asleep crying.

This is my life now.

Most nights at the bar. Like tonight.

I ordered a drink.

“One for me too!”

The voice was familiar. I looked to my right.

Mrs. Leonardo.

I blinked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, raised her glass, and downed it in one go.

“Sometimes it’s good to clear the mind,” she said.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I expected judgment, disappointment, anything—but she just smiled at me.

I lifted my glass, still watching her, and downed it all. She stood up, and that smile… it never faded. Not even for a second.

“Take care, Zinnia,” she said, then walked away.

I ordered another drink.

The moment it hit my tongue, so bitter, I had to spit it out. “What the hell are you serving me?” I snapped, grabbing the bartender’s collar.

He froze, eyes wide. “Ma’am, it’s what I just served you.”

I let go. Shame hit me harder than the bitterness in my mouth. I muttered an apology and reached for a candy to kill the taste. Since coming back, it was my first night not drinking myself unconscious. It felt like the longest night of my life. Cris’s face wouldn’t leave my mind.

Shawn wasn’t doing any better. The pain in his neck kept getting worse, probably from the stress. He spent hours locked in the bathroom, crying where no one could hear him.

And Liam? Gone. Disappeared. We searched everywhere—including the vault where he guarded the Phoenix Stone. But the place was overrun with black vines, so thick and unnatural that even Mrs. Leonardo’s fire couldn’t burn through them.

When I finally fell asleep that night, I had a nightmare. I woke up to Shawn shaking me. Thank God Mrs. Leonardo had given us access to each other's rooms—if he hadn’t come, I might not have made it. Maybe that would’ve been better. Maybe I should have died.

Because I lost a friend who meant more than a sister. And there was no escaping the pain now. Since that night, every drink tasted bitter, and the way Mrs. Leonardo avoided me… I knew it was her doing.

That nightmare was just the beginning. I was now trapped in sleep paralysis—every night, sometimes more than once.

I can’t describe the full intensity, but I can tell you what it’s like. It’s never like the movies. You don’t jolt awake or sit upright gasping for air. No.

You lie there, unable to breathe, and you don’t even know how to fix it. You think you’re awake, but you're still stuck in sleep. You see someone beside you and reach out, desperate for them to wake you—but they don’t move.

You're terrified, but you don’t know why. You want to scream, but your mouth won’t open. You try to move, one limb at a time, but nothing listens. Everything drowns in silence. And when someone finally wakes you, your screams still echo in your chest. You lie there, numb. You want to cry, but it feels like you’ve run out of tears.

Every night, Shawn woke me up when I stopped breathing. We had grown closer than ever. Do you remember the promise we made? To always be there for each other? He kept his word.

But that last dream I had in the sanctuary—the one that never finished—left more of a scar than I expected.

Cris’s disappearance hurt in ways I couldn’t explain. Quietly. Deeply. I was staring at my reflection when I remembered how often she told me to try bangs. I never did. She used to say we’d look like twins if I got them. She was so innocent, thinking a haircut could make us the same.

Heartbroken, I picked up the scissors and chopped off the front of my hair. I brushed the strands down with my fingers, looked at the table, and saw them lying there.

I smiled at myself, my eyes flooded with tears, "See, Cris? I got bangs. You always wanted to see me in bangs." I broke into tears. "Please come back… before they grow back." It felt like she was somewhere close, listening—but she wasn’t. And I refused to believe she was gone.

I was too afraid to sleep. So I buried myself in the library, trying to read everything I could about Obscure. I needed hope, some light in the dark, but there was nothing. Not a single mention. So many books, so many records, so many rituals—but not one word about her. Still, Shawn stayed by my side, watching over me like always. I took my anger to combat class. The instructors were preparing me for the day Monroe might return.

Each night, we returned to our rooms empty-handed. And each morning, we woke up hoping that maybe today would be different.

We were hoping for the best—because if we lost that, we’d lose our minds. But then one day

On our way to class, I saw a group of students gathered around a board covered in photos. They were reading poetry for those consumed by Obscure. I stopped.

Branden stepped forward, turned to the crowd, and began, “Funny thing, death. We live all those years just to die another day—”

He’d barely started when my eyes locked on Cris’s photo on the board.

Something inside me snapped. I stormed forward, yelling, “I told you all before, and I’m telling you again—Cris is not dead!” I tore her photo from the board and walked off.

The crowd broke into whispers. “She needs help,” someone muttered.

Branden. I heard him.

I turned. “What did you say?”

He froze, but then said what he probably planned to say anyway. “Come on, it’s obvious. She’s dead like the rest. You care about her? Fine. But you can’t take away our right to speak.”

“What do you want from me? A eulogy? You think she’ll feel good in heaven because of your speech? She won’t—because she’s not there! Just wait. One day, she’ll walk back into this school.”

Everyone was staring. I realized I was making a scene just as Shawn came running and pulled me away from the crowd.

“You can’t keep doing this, Zinnia,” he muttered. “I believe you. I do. But how will you help her if you end up in a hospital? You see what they don’t—but they won’t believe what they can’t see. You need to understand that.”

He calmed me down. I left.

That night, I tried to sleep like every other night. But I woke up to shattering glass. A rock had hit my window. Shawn rushed in too—he’d heard it. We looked outside. No one was there.

“Sleep in my room tonight,” he said.

I agreed. He always came to wake me from sleep paralysis anyway, always stayed until I drifted off again. Sometimes, he stayed the whole night when the attacks wouldn’t stop. He sat nearby, waiting for me to fall asleep.

Anyway, in the morning, I woke up alone. He entered the room, staring at me like I was some kind of monster. Then he took me to my window, and I understood why.

On the ground below the window, written in blood: *Crystal is dead.*

He told me to stay inside and took photos for my aunt. As soon as he left, I slipped out.

I spotted Branden heading toward class in the hallway. I tapped his shoulder, and when he turned—

I punched him.

Hard.

He hit the floor. My hand throbbed worse than his jaw.

But it was worth it.

I was so blinded by rage, I didn’t even realize what I was doing to him. It wasn’t me. When I finally snapped out of it and stepped back, I’d already become the kind of girl who refused to accept her mistake. Darkness blurred my vision, my ears rang, and the next thing I knew, I was in the principal’s office.

“What is wrong with you, Zinnia?” Mrs. Leonardo stared at me, demanding an explanation.

“Glad I finally got some attention from you,” I muttered, eyes locked on my shoes.

“Look at him! His face is swollen!” She slammed her palms on the desk.

“Maybe he deserved it!” I snapped.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!” she growled.

“For God’s sake, Zinnia!” Branden clutched his jaw, his voice weak. “We settled this yesterday. Why did you have to hit me like some wild animal?”

“This isn’t about yesterday! It’s about last night!” I glared at him. “Don’t act innocent!”

“Are you both forgetting I’m still here?” Mrs. Leonardo yelled. We both straightened immediately.

“He wrote it in blood.” I showed her the photo Shawn had taken before being sent out of the room.

“Did you do this?” she asked Branden, her voice sharp.

“Do what?” He looked genuinely confused. She showed him the photo.

“Jesus! I was trying to be nice to her! I’m not an animal, Zinnia. I’d never do that!”

And just like that, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake. I apologized and took him to the medical ward.

I paced, combing my hair back with my hands. Shawn rushed toward me, "They were right, I need help!"

"Hey, no, no!" He tried to console me, but I dropped down on my knees.

"I don't know why Monroe feared me so much. I am a danger to myself and to the people around me! I can't even handle my own wreckage, how can the world's fate depend on me?" I sobbed.

I knew I was slipping. I kept asking myself what Cris would’ve done if she were in my place. That only made me angrier—because she wasn’t here. And with that same hollow ache, another painful day passed.

Another night came. I was tired, so I picked up a book to distract myself—but I fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes, a wolf was lying beside me. I gasped and sat up. It opened its eyes and stared at me.

Strangely, I wasn’t afraid. I reached out and rubbed its neck. It stood up.

“Wait,” I whispered as it walked out the door. I followed it down the hall, then outside the school.

There’s a path that leads to the school, and another that veers right when you're facing it. I’d never gone that way before. I think it’s the one Odon used to transport me.

The moon was full. The cold stung, so I pulled my jacket tighter and wrapped my arms around myself. I was barefoot. The wolf stopped under a tree and began digging.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

It turned and let out a deep roar. I jumped back in fear—and fell. I’d landed in a pit. Dirt started raining down on me. Within seconds, I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.

It was another attack. And this time, I wasn’t waking up.

The worst part? I could hear Shawn pounding on the door. He was calling my name, but I couldn’t answer.

He rammed the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn’t open. Ryan heard the noise and ran over.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s having an attack. I can’t get in,” Shawn said, panicked.

“Wait! Can you reach her window?” Ryan asked.

Shawn looked confused—it would take too long to go down and climb up.

“From the balcony,” Ryan said quickly. “You can jump across. Her window hasn’t been repaired yet.”