Genesis. Volume 2

NC-17
Finished
0
author
Fandom:
Size:
353 pages, 158,431 words, 86 chapters
Tags:
Adventure Blood and Gore Body horror Dark fantasy Drama Graphic depictions of violence Horror Mystery? Some suspense ig Panic attacks Psychological horror Psychological trauma Team as Family Thriller Spoilers ...
Description:
October 1986. They thought they had won. They sealed an ancient evil in the Genesis mansion—but the price was Jack. The war, however, has only just begun. New enemies are awakening across the globe: a memory-eating Void in Detroit, the Maestro in Chicago, and the mysterious Sleeper lurking beneath London. Once again, a small group of teenagers must take up arms. Hunted by red threads that promise only curses, and haunted by the ghosts of their past, they have no choice but to fight.
Notes:
This is the second volume of the Genesis cycle. If you haven't read the first book, I strongly recommend starting there — otherwise, much of the story will remain off-screen. Here, you will find more darkness, more pain, and more loss. The characters grow up, and so do the monsters they face. While the first part focused on introducing the world and the initial battle, this volume is about the price of victory — and the realization that sometimes winning is not an ending, but only a beginning. What awaits you: Atmospheric 80s-style horror Blood, sacrifice, and impossible choices Psychological pressure, loss of memory and identity Journeys through cursed places: from abandoned mansions to London A team that holds together even as the world falls apart What you will NOT find: Slash / romance as the main plotline (romance is secondary) Graphic torture descriptions A happy ending in the classical sense Enjoy the read — and may the darkness keep you until the very end.
Dedication:
Dedicated to: Those who stayed behind to wait. Those who did not give up, even when they forgot their own name. And to those who keep moving forward, despite the pain. You are the reason this story exists.
Publishing on other websites:
Check with the author / translator
0 Like 0 Comments 0 To the collection

PROLOGUE. CHAPTER 1.

Settings
  • 100%
  • 90%
  • 80%
  • 70%
  • 60%
  • 50%
  • 70%
  • 80%
  • 90%
  • 100%
  • 110%
  • 120%
  • 130%
  • 140%
  • 150%
  • 160%
  • 170%
October 1986. Brookfield. The "Genesis" mansion. Basement. Jack sat on the floor, his back propped against the wall. He had no idea what month it was. There was no light in the basement—only a gray glow without a source. It simply hung in the air, which only made it worse. His left eye ached. A dull, deep pull, somewhere behind the eyeball. Jack rubbed it with his fist. It didn't help. "You're forgetting," said a voice. From inside. From his chest. From the place where emptiness used to be. "A little more," the voice grew softer, almost a whisper, "and you won't remember your own name." "Shut up." His lips were cracked. He hadn't drunk for who knows how long. He just didn't feel like it. Jack tried to pull faces out of his memory. Six of them. A dark‑haired girl. She was drawing. What exactly—gone. A boy with a knife. Brown eyes. He was afraid of the dark. A tall one. Green eyes. He'd promised something. Seemed like he'd come back. Two girls. One red‑haired, the other with black hair—long, down to her waist. The names slipped away. He could almost feel them on his tongue—and then lose them. "They won't come," said the voice. "They've forgotten. They're living their own lives." "That's not true." Jack banged the back of his head against the wall. It hurt. Good. Pain brought him back here, into his body, into the basement. In his left eye, a face flashed. Not a clown. Just a man—black eyes, gray hair. Another appeared beside him—a woman with empty eyes. Then an old man. Then a boy. They replaced each other like cards in a deck shuffled by an invisible hand. "Who are you?" Jack whispered. "I am what remains." No laughter. Just a statement. The way you talk about the weather. "You're keeping me here." Jack licked his lips. Dry as sandpaper. "I'm keeping you. If I die, you get out. If you die, I forget everything." "You're already forgetting." Jack ran his hand over his face. Fingers dry, skin peeling. He opened his eyes. On the opposite wall, a word was carved. He didn't remember when or with what he'd done it. "SOS." Beneath it—a date: "October 1986." A year. He'd been sitting here for a year. "They will come." The voice didn't answer. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked. Footsteps? Or just the wind. The old house kept talking to itself—creaking, sighing, shifting on its foundations. Jack closed his eyes. In the darkness, he tried again to remember their faces. He couldn't. Then he tried to remember his own. He couldn't either.
0 Like 0 Comments 0 To the collection