Bi Awakenings Novels & Stories

I stopped and collapsed near a small stream and I tried to catch my breath. My body felt dizzy, I tried to get up but I couldn’t move my legs anymore. No, I couldn’t pass out there. What if they eventually found me? I didn’t want to die — they looked like they were ready to kill me. But I couldn’t resist my eyes as they shut off. Maybe this was the end for me. I woke up to the scent of leather and pine. My body was aching and I looked around and found myself in an unfamiliar room. I wasn’t outside anymore, I was lying on a bed with clean sheets.

"Empath awakening records. Not many, but enough to establish a pattern." "And?" "And Mira was correct. Every recorded awakening occurred under circumstances of great emotional extremity. A mother witnessing her child die. A lover suffering the greatest betrayal. A warrior experiencing complete defeat." She gestures toward the texts. "The circumstances vary, but the extent of likeness is complete emotional saturation. The sort that destroys all defenses, all shields, all attempts at mastery." "So I have to be emotionally devastated in order to tap my full potential." I fall into a chair. "That's one heck of a requirement."

The next moment, the back of the chair sprouted dozens of tendril-like appendages that burrowed deep into my skull. Then, darkness enveloped me. I had no sense of how much time passed before I saw my own corpse. And my consciousness—my true awareness—was somewhere else, in another space. Beside me floated a formless mass, impossible to define, yet I knew instinctively: it was the AI. So that was it! I should have realized sooner.

I choked out. “No.” His grip tightened. “It is beginning.” “What is beginning?” His voice was barely a whisper. “The awakening.” My eyes flew open as light exploded through my entire body. And the world vanished.

The dawn broke reluctantly over the horizon, a pale, silvery light filtering through the mist that still clung stubbornly to the forest surrounding the ancient temple. Amelia Whitford rose slowly from the small bed of cloaks and sheepskin where she had been resting, the ache in her limbs a harsh reminder of the night’s battles. Her golden-flecked eyes reflected a new awareness, a recognition of the power that coursed relentlessly through her veins. She had awakened forces she barely understood, yet somehow, instinctively, she knew she could harness them.

THE AWAKENING Tyla woke to the sensation of fire crawling beneath her skin. Not burning from the outside—burning from within*, as if lightning threaded her veins and refused to settle. Her ears rang with a pulse she didn’t recognize. The room swayed above her, a blur of stone ceiling and shadows dancing like living things. She forced her eyes open, gasping for air as something hot pressed against her spine and coursed upward until the world turned white. A hand gripped hers.

Chapter 38 Alex's POV In the realm between dreams and reality, Alex slowly emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. The gradual return of sensation began with a tingling awareness in his fingers, like tendrils of life creeping up his limbs. A dull ache resonated through his head, as if his mind were struggling to break free from the shackles of slumber. As he fought against the weight of darkness, the world around him remained shrouded in obscurity. His breath came out in short pants, anything more would make one of his broken ribs puncture his lungs. Turning into a wolf was sheer agony for him, but it didn't hold a candle to the unearthly pain he was feeling on every part of his body.

Chapter 8 The Awakening "Neptune recommended upgrading Atlantis's computer system before reviving Prince David and the others, giving us full control over the ship's systems. With the upgrades complete, Neptune ensures a smoother and more controlled awakening process for the crew." I have mixed emotions, sad for the ones in stasis, but excited to meet them as the sun sets with the computer system upgrade complete.

a man's furious voice rang out behind me. I turned to see a handsome man slap a document before me. It was a divorce agreement. Carissa Winton? Suzanne? Mrs. Faust? Weren't those the important characters in a popular stereotypical melodramatic romance novel I'd just read? So, I'd transmigrated into the body of Carissa Winton, the poor female lead of the novel. She'd aborted three children for the male lead, Lincoln Faust's sake, and was dying of bone cancer.