Novel & Cerita Graveyard Shifters

“Who.” The air dropped in an instant. Breath froze in their lungs, every candle guttering but never quite dying. The chamber seemed to fold inward, as if the walls themselves bent closer, pressing down on their ribs. Then, with a groan that echoed like bones breaking, the seal cracked. From its heart spilled shadow — but not like theirs. Not crow-black. Not familiar. This shadow was older, heavier, soaked in memory. Its edges gleamed red as if dipped in fire. A feather emerged. Long. Brittle. Stained faintly with blood.

Lucian reached his hand out as he stepped closer. I swallowed thickly, took his hand, and gently squeezed it. “Thank you.” Lucian stepped back and nodded at Grayson. Grayson turned back to the microphone. “Midnight Moon pack, I give you our newest shifter, our hellhound, Shade.” I looked at Azalea, and she flashed me a beautiful smile. I winked, and her smile widened. I took a deep breath, looked forward, and as I stepped forward, shade came to the surface and shifted.

It was their season… one that was just as cold as they were. To them, we humans were nothing but slaves… or food. They ruled by night, while the shifters, mostly the werewolves, ruled by day. That was the new reality of earth ever since the fourth world war. “Dawn!” A voice cut through my thought, forcing me to turn in its direction. From a distance, I saw my friend, Autumn, waving at me with her long wavy hair floating around her as the wind blew at her. “Autumn!” I yelled back,

"Or let's try and think with a head not south of our belt buckle and do what we came to do. Solve a crime. Or have you forgotten what tonight is?" How could any shifter not know? The rising full moon tugged at him. It called to his inner beast and asked him to join it for a wild, night-time run. Usually he would heed the invitation, but given his present circumstances, he tamped down the urge. His panther grumbled. It chafed at their current lifestyle. "I know what day it is. Tonight is the night we find out if our killer has selected its next target." Because it seemed most of the deaths occurred on full moons. Was it because shifters and their odd traits were more noticeable, or was there

The pups sighed with relief, huffing a few relieved laughs as they turned back towards the street. However as soon as they shifted out of the alley and into the dimly lit thoroughfare, they were met by the towering figures of three grisly looking shifters. They were tall and their muscular arms inked heavily with swirling black tattoos, their faces and hands bore scars from fighting, and all three wore the haggard expressions of men who had led very rough lives indeed. The frightening figures blocked the pups’ path completely, and the man in the middle offered them a smile – at least, that’s what they thought it was. In practice it looked far more like a grimace. “Hello there, what are you l

he turned to look at Logan and ordered, “ You will be in charge of sending them to the graveyard of the unmasked and bury them there.” With that Elder Griffiths turned to head out of the morgue, he was having a headache with the number of emails, letters and calls that he had received after these corpses were dug out from the backyard of the council. Many were announcing and demanding that he needed to step off the chair of the head of the shifter council as he did not do his job well enough to allow such a thing to happen.

~Godfrey’s Point of View~ As I left the side of the giant ice wall from the shifter’s side, I noticed a mass grave on the other side, and it smelled horrific. Like old death, rotting death. Vampires knew that smell all too well, but it was still enough to make even me gag. I landed back at headquarters and began yelling for updates. “Four injured shifters, no casualties, some crazy shit is going on though, changing by the minute,” Ash said.

With a final, grateful twitter, the bird spirit's light went out, and its form crumbled like glowing, white sand in my hands and vanished into the snowdrift. I could hear its song in the wind, and my stomach lurched as the horror settled on my mind. Every granule, every whisper of wind, every bit of light had once been a shifter's animal spirit. I had known before that this was a graveyard, but this... This was something different. A dumping ground, a mass grave where no single spirit maintained any sense of what it had once been.

Instead, I put on a show that would leave them both green with envy. *~*~* Isobelle The rest of the afternoon dragged by at a leisurely pace, and the boys and I spent most of it watching back-to-back episodes of a shifter drama called Shifter Valley. There were plenty of covert scandals, breaking pack laws, illicit affairs, rejecting mates for the rogue next door, a wolf shifter trying to explain to her mate that she was pregnant with a bear shifter’s cub. They even did the thousand-yard stare right before the ending credits rolled. After I watched the first episode, I was hooked. I was sure the boys regretted giving me dominion of the TV remote.

A connection to something older than memory. "You nervous?" Adam asked Sandra softly. She shook her head, watching as a group of teenage shifters began to shift one by one, clothes falling to the grass like petals. Limbs cracked, bones reshaped, fur burst forth in waves of color—tawny browns, silver-blues, ink-black coats shimmering beneath the rising moon. The transformations were fast, almost elegant in their brutality. In seconds, wolves stood where humans had been, tails wagging and eyes sharp with joy.