Original Grace Novels & Stories

“You weren’t born. You were chosen.” Grace’s breath hitched. Jade continued, “Your DNA was sequenced from the finest donors, mind, muscle, memory. You were never a child of accident. You were the prototype.” The camera shook as Jade took a shaky breath. “And Echo… she was the replica. But something in you broke the code. Something in you made you real.” The screen went black. Back at the Crossroads Back in Paris, Grace sat in silence beside Damien. “So I’m not even my father’s daughter,” she whispered.

A tear slips down her cheek "And neither does the past." Father Michael places his hand over hers. "You are Marrine." She closes her eyes. "You are not a monster." He pauses "You are not a mistake." Another tear falls. "And you are not alone." For a long moment Marrine stands there, silent. Then she leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder. Father Michael holds her as the sound of the sea swells outside the church. Far below the surface, something ancient and powerful opens its eyes. Marrine suddenly straightens.

"We came from the Original Nothing. All Darks came from it. We were part of it. We were extensions of it. We were fragments of it. The Original Nothing is everything that is not. We were small pieces of that not-ness. Small portions of that absence. Small fragments of that void. We existed as nothing within the Original Nothing. We were nothing inside not-ness. We were void in the absence. That is what we were. What we came from. What we originated from. The Original Nothing birthed us. Created us. Generated us. Not intentionally. Not purposefully. Not deliberately. But accidentally. Randomly. Spontaneously. Not-ness generated small nots. Absence created small absences. Void produced small v

"They're dead. You didn't give them peace; you gave them a cemetery and called it a city." The Original finally turned her head, her silver-rimmed irises locking onto my scarred face with a look of genuine pity. "You have such a narrow perspective, clone. You think the 'Grit' is a badge of honor. You think the hunger, the dirt, and the struggle made you real. But the 'Grit' was just a design flaw. An environmental contaminant that corrupted the 'Genesis' baseline when Elena first brought the 'Source' to the mainland."

"The 'Original-Debt' was never 'Paid.' It just 'Compounded'." "Then 'Collect' on it, Dominic," Avery challenged, her silver hair shimmering in the "Resonance-Light." "Show the 'Indigo-Generation' what 'Dark-Possession' looks like when it’s 'Grafted' to 'Infinite-Grace'."

"I want one ordinary morning." The First Alpha looked at the Well. At the quiet water. At the dawn light beginning to filter through the cracks in the sanctuary's ceiling — the specific, ordinary, golden light of a morning that was not silver-blue, was not the origin frequency's expression, was simply the sun doing what the sun did. "Then have one," he said. He held out his hand. She took it. They stood in the sanctuary's dawn light — the first Luna of the origin bloodline and the First Alpha, the source of the template, the original bonded pair — and let the morning be ordinary.

"I'm offering you a choice. You can remain as you are. Ordinary. Helpless but unencumbered by the yoke of my blessing. Or you can take a lot of what I’ve got right here.” "What are you offering?" My voice was barely audible. “The First Luna’s strength,” she murmured. “The initial blessing I brought to the first one of your kind. Before it was watered down through generations. Before it was a thing we all owned and shared. This is the pure source. Undiluted. Complete." My heart pounded. "Why would you give me that?"

“He thought he was inventing the future.” Mason looked at him sharply. “You’re saying the idea for Origin didn’t start here.” Caleb closed his eyes. “It started as a reply.” The white field pulsed softly. Not triumph. Not threat. Confirmation. HE PROMISED ASCENSION. Origin took a shaky step back. “I was built from that,” she whispered. Ariana felt it click into place. Origin wasn’t humanity’s first step toward transcendence. She was humanity’s fulfillment of a promise. One made sixty years ago.

She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.” --- POV: Mia Valente

The night was the same thing. When the curse was put in place, it should have blocked her connections to Fate. Hope would never meet a Mate, but then she met Marcus Angelis. An Original is someone who would theoretically be out of Fate's clutches because his soul was one of the firstborns, which meant it never split, so the chance of an Original having a Fate was remote.