Divergent Factionless Novels & Stories

My stomach churned. “The Bloodfang Faction,” I whispered, reaching out but stopping just short of touching the marred flesh. Smith exhaled sharply. “So you recognize it.” I nodded, my mind racing. The Bloodfangs were a faction that had been wiped out decades ago—at least, that’s what we had been told. They were known for their brutal experiments, their obsession with werewolf purity. If they were back, this wasn’t just about me. This was bigger. Much bigger. I took a shaky breath. “We need to find out how many more of them are out there.”

Hence, it turned out that the Phaseless Dweller was also a Puppet Immortal. Once Alex figured it out, his expression seemed bizarre. Earlier, Neela had even told him that there was something wrong with the Puppet Immortals that the Brahman Sect had researched, and a portion of them had gone out of control... Hence, although both the Phaseless Dweller and Mask were Puppet Immortals, they belonged to two different factions. Donovan saw the current changes in Phaseless as well. Of course, he could tell Phaseless’ true identity at a glance.

Damon paced in front of me, his silver eyes sharp with the kind of frustration that only came from dealing with immortals who had too much time on their hands and not enough hobbies. "The Forgotten sent another scroll this morning," he said, tossing the rolled parchment onto the bench beside me. It unrolled a bit, revealing elegant writing that smelled of old libraries. "They want a formal audience. No baby this time, just us. They say the Convergence left loose ends, and we're the ones holding the thread." I picked up the scroll, and looked at the language. "They're calling us 'the Disruptors of Balance.' That's rich coming from a faction that’s been hiding in the shadows for centuries beca

Days turned into weeks as she sifted through dusty records and forgotten histories. An obscure legend emerged from the Terran Alliance archives, a whisper of a rogue faction – the "Shadow Weavers." These were said to be a splinter group, obsessed with power and control, who vanished from history centuries ago. Could they have returned from the shadows, manipulating events from behind the scenes? Meanwhile, Xylos, ever the pragmatist, focused on technological solutions. He designed a series of information filters, algorithms that could detect and flag manipulated data within the communication channels of both factions. This, he hoped, would expose the manipulator's attempts to sow discord.

The third growing pain was factional tension. Despite our best efforts, groups were forming. Traditional converts who retained some hierarchical thinking. Radical reformers who wanted to push further faster. Rogues who valued autonomy over community. Young wolves who'd never known traditional packs. Magical practitioners integrating with wolves. Each faction had different priorities, different values, different visions for what Freedomborn should become. "This is normal," Lyanna assured us during a council meeting. "Any community of this size develops factions. The question is whether factions become destructive or stay productive."

Malikul revealed that name full of wrath. Wan clasped his hands together and sat on the chair. “Yes. I have learned about him after a thorough investigation. He also worked closely with the werewolf tribe.” Malikul’s body tensed up as his face became rigid once again. “Come again, what?” Wan wet his lips, formulating his next sentence carefully. “As we all know. This world is divided into three factions.” “Upperworld, Underworld and The Unknown. Yes, I know.”

“This isn’t just an escalation—it’s a declaration of war.” Lysandra, seated at the far end of the table with her meticulously kept notes spread out, adjusted her glasses. “What’s most concerning,” she said, “is the nature of this new faction. From what we can decipher, they call themselves the Shadow Dominion. Their methods, their structure—everything about them points to a level of sophistication we’ve never faced.”

“I told you a little about the first war yesterday and how two factions fought resulting in many deaths.” I nodded as he seemed to struggle with how to continue. “What I didn't tell you is that both factions still exist, you have seen our city, our world, but there is another place, hidden from humans and us that is home to the second faction. As unoriginal as it may seem we call them the outlaws, simply because they refuse to abide by the laws of our races that were set out by the council. When the first war ended, we separated and most of us have never had contact with the outlaws, however they, like us, have grown in numbers over the years and they are rising against us once again.”

He wouldn’t attack blindly—he’d look for something to break us from the inside out. My grip tightened around Blaire’s wrist, grounding myself in her presence. “If he’s moving south, he’s looking for alliances,” I said. “There are rogue groups scattered near the outskirts of town. Some are little more than strays trying to survive, but others…” I trailed off, exchanging a glance with Orion. “The Red Fangs,” Orion muttered, his expression dark. Blaire frowned. “Who are they?” I hesitated for a beat before answering. “A rogue faction with no loyalty to any pack. They’ll sell their strength to the highest bidder, no matter who gets hurt in the process.”

I yell as the pack starts splitting into three groups. “The Volatile pack is going to expect only males to arrive. They’re not going to expect females and their pups. We are going to take Zack down, and if it comes to that point that we need to kill him. Then so be it. So be ready. There is going to be a lot of blood spilled, but we still need to have each other's backs. we need to stand together; otherwise, we're not going to win this battle.” I say and walk towards my brothers. “Are you sure we need to include the pups in this?” Michael asks with a concerned look on his face.