LOGINBetrayed by her mate. Replaced by her best friend. Marked a traitor. Her Alpha mate Kael stood by and did nothing while she was being ridiculed. Now that she's gone he's obsessed with control. Selene Blackmoor was treated like a slave. She was the Luna, but her people never respected her because she was once an orphan. They said she never really belonged. On her night of her execution, Selene leaves and swears that she’ll never kneel again. But when she flees into the enemy land, she discovers two shocking truths: her greatest rival may be her only ally—and she is the lost heir to a bloodline powerful enough to change the fate of every pack. Now, Selene isn’t just surviving. She is becoming and she is coming for vengeance.
View MoreThe backlash began subtly a critical review of Yael's participatory witnessing methodology in a confederation-affiliated journal, questions about the Verdant Archive's funding sources raised at an academic conference, whispers that Selene Thorne had "lost her way" after Kael's death.Then it became less subtle."They're calling us a cult," Amara announced, her voice tight with anger as she read from her tablet. "The Supernatural Studies Quarterly just published an editorial titled 'When Founders Fall: The Dangerous Romance of Anti-Institutionalism.'"The team gathered around the main table, where Amara projected the article onto the wall. Its author was Dr. Helena Voss, a prominent confederation scholar and former colleague of Selene's."The Verdant Archive represents a troubling trend in supernatural studies: the valorization of marginalized communities not for their actual practices, but for their symbolic resistance to institutional order. Led by Selene Thorne whose personal histor
The Verdant Archive's independence forced a kind of resourcefulness Selene hadn't needed in decades. There were no confederation budgets, no institutional infrastructure, no administrative staff handling logistics while researchers focused on their work. Everything had to be built from scratch or rather, grown organically, like the communities they studied.Funding came first. Selene's personal wealth, accumulated over forty-two years and largely untouched during her confederation tenure, provided initial capital. But sustaining twelve researchers in long-term field work required more creative solutions."There are foundations," Amara explained during their first planning meeting in the warehouse, "that specifically fund research challenging dominant paradigms. Alternative knowledge systems, marginalized perspectives, counter-hegemonic scholarship.""You're describing academic activism," Professor Okonkwo observed."Is that a problem?" Amara's tone was challenging."Not for me. But we
The Margins Project began quietly, almost invisibly which was exactly how Selene wanted it.She converted a unused archive room in the confederation headquarters' basement into their working space. It was deliberately modest: a few desks, filing cabinets salvaged from storage, a large wall map where Amara began marking isolated communities with different colored pins. Red for documented, yellow for potential research sites, green for communities that had explicitly declined confederation membership.The green pins vastly outnumbered the red ones."There are hundreds of them," Amara said, stepping back to survey the map. "Supernatural communities that have developed their own cooperative models, completely independent of institutional structures. Each one a living experiment in alternative social organization."Selene ran her finger along the map's western edge, where a cluster of yellow pins marked the nomadic territories Amara had mentioned. "We'll need to be strategic. We can't just
The confederation headquarters looked different. Or perhaps Selene was different, and the building simply revealed what had always been there: rigidity masquerading as permanence, control disguised as cooperation.The structure rose twelve stories in steel and glass, every angle precise, every surface reflective. It had been designed to project authority and unity a physical manifestation of the confederation's values. Selene had approved the architectural plans herself, fifteen years ago.Now, after months in communities that grew their buildings or carved them from living mountains or let the tide determine their boundaries, the headquarters felt aggressive. Insistent. A fist raised against the sky, declaring human dominance over the landscape.She stood on the plaza, journals heavy in her pack, and wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake."Selene?" A familiar voice, sharp with surprise. "We thought you wouldn't be back until next month."Marcus Chen, the confederation's current D
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