Beneath The Waves Novels & Stories

The underground bunker, hidden from satellites and maps alike. “This is it,” he said as he shut off the engine. “From here, we shift.” They moved with practiced ease. Thick winter coats were exchanged for lighter base layers better suited for shifting. Bags were re-packed, fastened tight so they could be carried by their wolves. Celeste stood at the edge of the vehicle, her breath visible in the icy air. The snow was coming down harder now, thick and fast, sticking to lashes and hair within seconds. The cold crept through her clothes, but the anticipation warmed her blood.

The Atlantic Ocean did not just rise; it unfolded. As Hope Thorne pulled the red lever in the heart of the Mycelium-Dreadnought, the emerald frequency of the "Abyssal Song" rippled through the water like a physical blade. Below the Golden Citadel of the Consensus, the seabed didn't just shift—it breathed.

[The Void’s Invitation] The ocean didn't roar; it spoke with a voice that had been drowned for a thousand years. A low-frequency vibration rattled the Spire’s foundation, turning the wine in our glasses into shivering silver circles. It was a broadcast that didn't use radio waves or satellites—it came from the crushing darkness of the Mariana Trench, vibrating through the tectonic plates until it screamed in my very teeth.

A low, rhythmic thrumming echoed from beneath the waves—not the ship. Something older. The First Ones weren't just in the sky. They were waiting in the deep.

Becca turned back to the mirror, running her fingers through her long blonde hair, imagining the moment Maya’s secrets spilled wide open. It wasn’t about Ayden anymore. It was about power. And Becca would make sure everyone in the pack saw Maya for what she truly was. Far beneath the waves, where moonlight barely kissed the surface, the ocean thrummed with unease. The current was restless, pulling and twisting as though it carried a secret too heavy to contain. Sirena broke the surface, silver hair spilling over her shoulders like liquid moonlight. Her chest ached as she

"There is a wolf at the eastern border. He claims... he claims you owe him audience." I sat by the fire, nursing the broth that kept my strength for the pup's final weeks. My belly had grown vast, heavy, undeniable. I had dressed in midnight blue—my own color, not the crimson of warning, not the white of mourning. My own. "What does he offer for this audience?" I asked. "Nothing." The Beta's lip curled. "He offers... himself. Says he will serve as slave, as beast of burden, as anything you command. Says he has carved your name into his flesh, hoping to restore what he destroyed."

As they rounded the final limestone cliff, the darkness didn't just fade—it vanished. The beach didn't just light up; it breathed. Thousands of fiber-optic roses buried under the sand pulsed in a warm, amber rhythm, mimicking a heartbeat. The light surged from the waterline up to their feet, turning the cove into a sanctuary of liquid gold. Xielle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Zeke... what is this?" "Now," Arthur’s voice crackled through the comms on the cliff above. Suddenly, the air shimmered. Hundreds of luminescent silk butterflies ascended from the foliage, their sapphire and gold LED wings beating in perfect synchronization. They spiraled around Xielle in a glowing vortex, cas

“Now I ain’t that desperate.” Their eyes met. Peals of giggles and laughter escaping them both muffled by the spray of water and hissing steam as it rose up her bare body. An assortment of scented oils and perfumes brought in from merchant ships decorated the walls; Parisa took her time consuming each bottle, popping open the caps and lifting them to her nostrils. Warm, woody, oriental, fresh, flowery; each scent that pleased him carefully chosen for special occasions or daily use. Some bottles still smelled of the sea from which they had crossed during shipments; water and salt and cold suns. Such a simple smell of the sea elicited a yearning she could not quite place… a dull feeling that t

But beneath this serene facade, the city guards its secrets. Here, the ordinary and the extraordinary coexist in a delicate balance. Flickering streetlights reveal fleeting shadows that don’t belong, and the whispers of the waves carry more than the call of the ocean. This is a place where ancient powers stir, where the supernatural thrives in the cracks between the mundane. Rockshore Bay is not what it seems. Beneath its quiet charm lies a battleground for forces older than time, a sanctuary guarded by those who walk the line between humanity and the wild.

Everyone says that’s delusional, and they just look like beautiful waves, but screw that, they’re dragon beards. I swim deeper into the ocean’s depths as fish scatter to avoid potential prey. They’re safe from me. I only eat raw fish in the form of sushi. I swim further and further away from the surface as my eyes adjust to their new underwater environment. Sirnas are able to breathe, talk and see perfectly underwater, so being in the ocean is like a second home to me. I don’t think a camera can truly capture the beauty and wonder of the ocean. The way the sun’s beams are refracted by the ocean waves creating streams of dancing light through the water that slowly disappear the deeper you go.