Author Center Novels & Stories

The bench creaked slightly under us as he sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. His arm reached around me to adjust my posture just a little, and his voice lowered as he spoke. “Relax your hands,” he said. “Don’t hold tension in your fingers.” I let out a nervous laugh. “They’re shaking.” He chuckled, guiding my right hand gently. “Here. These are the home keys. Middle C, and the rest follow.” His fingers ghosted over mine, pressing them lightly onto the cool keys. “Like this?” He nodded. “Good. Now - press.”

Then there is the elders having the nerve to claim that none of this is even happening. I see Alex almost nose to nose with me “Noves!” he is saying over and over. “Focus on me Noves, breath with me, that’s it, in like this, and out, in, and out” he sits there deep breathing with me until I am back int control. My vision is returning and I can hear the world around me again. “Thank fuck for that you scared me” he says hugging me to him. “You weren’t even breathing” “Sorry” I mumble. Angel shakes her head at me. “What on earth are you apologising for?” she asks me with a gentle smile.

“We’ll go back. But… we need to know everything about this center. Why George Harrison is here. Why he built this. What influence he may have on the pack or on anyone else.” George’s eyes flicked at me briefly, cold and assessing. “It is a center for healing. That is all. The rest… is irrelevant.” I stepped closer, closing the distance slightly. “Nothing is irrelevant when it comes to my pack. Not when it could affect anyone I am responsible for. And certainly… not when it involves someone I knew, someone who… mattered.” George’s jaw tightened, his tone sharper. “You are an Alpha. Focus on your pack. The dead… cannot influence the present.”

Everything is supposed to be temporary right? Name: Calder Rowe Age: 26 Position: Center Reputation: disciplined, controlled, brutal on ice, silent off it Personality: Calder doesn’t chase women. He’s the one member of his hockey team who doesn’t indulge in debauchery, He doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t take what could distract him. His entire life runs on control because he craves control and he believes control and discipline get things done.

"Thank you teacher! I will! " "The Sue family is for you to practice," Carl reached out, laughing a second before closing the video. "Every apprentice I bring with me is the touch of the international financial center, Shen An'an, you don't disappoint me." The video turned off and Zhang Mingxi did not go, but logged directly into the International Center's website. Shen An'an stood by him, surprised, "Ming Xigo, where do you come from international account?" The Centre for the Rights of the International Centre (ICRC) has a great deal of supernatural power, and very little information about the ICRC has spread to the outside world. It has a separate website, which can only be logged in with

He said and left the bathroom. My heart beat crazily as I sat on the Water closet nervously . I hugged myself close in pannick . He Doesn't have a filter in his mouth at all , whatever happened to the Frederico I used to know ? Is this the real Frederico ? TBC

“ That’s great, Clara. Taking after your pater . ” He chortled. He picked up his phone, “ I ’ll go ahead and ring the nascence of the pack. We generally go through the council but I know the sisters who run the centre. ” He mentioned. He pressed some buttons and held the phone to his observance. I could feel my mind link being poked at, I blocked it when we came by then. I took a deep breath, ignoring it and watched as Alpha Miles saluted the other nascence. “ nascence Leon, it’s nascence Miles. ” He saluted well, kind of stated. “ Is Caleb or Carson around? ” He asked, “ I've a she- wolf interested in your centre. ” He added. I felt the familiar burn in my tummy. I leaned over slightly and

“Zayden” He didn’t look away. didn’t move. because he was already committed. and then the space shifted again. not around us. behind us. I turned and for the first time—I saw it. not the presence. not the force. the core. the center of it all. and it wasn’t empty. It wasn’t abstract. It wasn’t formless. It had a shape. familiar. wrong. and the moment I recognized it. everything in me went still. because the thing at the center—the thing controlling all of this. wasn’t something ancient. wasn’t something unknown. It was someone.

And at the center— something moves. Not a shape. Not a figure. Something larger. Something that doesn’t fully exist in one form. Shifting. Watching. Waiting. My pulse steadies. Not fear. Not anymore. Just focus. “That’s it,” the figure says quietly. “The core.” “No,” I reply. “That’s the thing controlling it.” “Same difference.” “No,” I say again. “Not anymore.” I step forward. Closer. The thing reacts instantly. The space tightens. Pressure surges.

"And at the centre—" He stops. "What?" I say. He looks at me. "A stone," he says. "Just one. Set flat into the paving at the garden's centre. The right kind of stone. Warm." I look at him. "Warm," I say. "The right kind of warm," he says. "Not from the sun." The frequency register of the city hums through my feet. Seven frequencies. And beneath all of them — the root note, the seventh anchor, the living centre that is not a place but a person —