All Chapters of EMERGENCE: The Subnatural Chronicles: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The world narrows to a single point of focus—my grandfather standing across the chaotic space, his amber-gold aura pulsing with predatory intent, his smile coldly triumphant. Around me, people scatter and shout, but their movements seem distant, underwater.I'm frozen, caught between flight and fight, my body unable to decide which survival instinct to follow.And then something shifts deep inside me—something ancient and wild and not entirely human. Heat floods my veins, starting at the crescent mark on my lower back and spreading outward like liquid fire.Before I can process what's happening, my head tilts back and a sound tears from my throat that I've never made before—a ROAR that shakes the very air, vibrating through the concrete floors and metal rafters of the Refuge.What in the fuck? Did I just roar?It was animalistic and filled with a clear message: BACK OFF.Voren's face registers shock, his confident smirk faltering. He clearly didn't expect that. The tactical team behin

Morning comes too quickly. Maddox wakes me after what feels like minutes but must have been a few hours, his hand hovering near my shoulder without quite touching me—clearly remembering our last physical encounter."We need to move," he says simply. "I've picked up chatter on frequencies the Sentinels use. They're expanding their search radius."I drag myself upright, body still aching in unfamiliar ways. "How do you know what frequencies the Sentinels use?"A ghost of his usual smirk appears. "I make it my business to know things others don't. Helps me stay alive."We gather our few belongings—which amount to the clothes we're wearing and some remaining food from last night—and slip out of the motel before dawn fully breaks. Maddox has somehow acquired an ancient sedan that's seen better days, its once-blue paint now a patchwork of rust and faded color."Borrowed," he says when I raise an eyebrow at the vehicle."You mean stolen.""I left cash under the owner's doormat. More than it'

The Verdant Hollow hums around me as I wake, the vines cradling my bed glowing faintly with dawn’s light. The air smells of earth and something sweeter, like wildflowers blooming out of season. My crescent mark tingles, a constant reminder of the Lunar Well’s visions last night—my mother’s radiant face, my father’s wolf form, and that surreal image of myself with moonlight wings. I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that I might become that figure, or that I might not.Sylvara promised training at dawn, so I pull myself from the vine-woven bed, my bare feet sinking into the cool stone floor. The sanctuary’s walls pulse with runes, their soft light guiding me through winding halls to an open courtyard where the forest canopy parts to reveal a sky streaked with pink and gold. Sylvara stands at the center, her jade-green skin shimmering as she tends to a sapling that seems to grow under her touch, its leaves unfurling like tiny hands reaching for the sun.“You’re late,” she says wi

The Verdant Hollow’s twilight wraps the training grove in a soft glow, the energy threads pulsing brighter as night creeps in. My muscles ache from days of training, but my crescent mark thrums with a restless energy, like it’s urging me to move, to act. Yesterday’s shift—claws, silver fur, those surreal moonlight wings—still haunts me. Renn’s “dragon” outburst keeps replaying, half-funny, half-unsettling. I’m no myth, but I’m not just a shifter either. Whatever I am, the Hollow’s teaching me to wield it, and I’m starting to feel the weight of what that means.Sylvara stands by the primal pool, her jade-green skin catching the last rays of daylight. She’s been drilling me on the First Ones’ rituals, ancient weaves to strengthen the Hollow’s wards against Veil-breaches. The runes on the grove’s pillars glow faintly, responding to her touch, and my new sight picks up their intricate patterns—golden-green, laced with silver, like a cosmic tapestry.Cassia paces nearby, her fiery aura fli

The Verdant Hollow’s library is a labyrinth of living shelves, vines curling around ancient tomes and crystalline tablets that hum with stored knowledge. Moonlight filters through a domed ceiling of translucent stone, casting silver patterns across the floor. My crescent mark pulses in rhythm with the sanctuary’s heartbeat, grounding me as I sit at a rune-etched table, surrounded by texts Sylvara deemed essential for understanding the First Ones’ rituals. Cassia lounges nearby, her fiery aura a low glow as she flips through a scroll, muttering about “overcomplicated Veil nonsense.” Renn, the Tideborn courier, hovers at the table’s edge, sorting reports from the eastern rift with a nervous energy that’s starting to grate.It’s been three days since my shift in the training grove—three days of studying, training, and grappling with the reality of my form: a primal wolf infused with lunar light and Veil-touched wings, a convergence no subnatural has ever embodied. The memory of Renn’s aw