Original Grace Novels & Stories

She suddenly reached over with a surge of strength and grabbed Tara by the shoulder. Tara wiped her tears and stared into her grandmother’s eyes, the steel in them making her sober. “There is a prophecy about our lineage known only to us. The other parts of the prophecy are missing except for the last line which says; for the last daughter of Osoro shall usher in a new era, darkness so thick the universe would tremble in fear, light so bright angels would bow in worship. The earth shall be lost except all twos return to one.” her grandmother said.

she murmured, feeling cherished in his embrace. Grace felt a rush of warmth surge through her as she gazed into Noah’s eyes, their depth conveying a sincerity that touched her soul. She nestled closer to him, feeling the comfort of his embrace enveloping her. With a soft smile gracing his lips, Noah continued, “It’s because you are all these things, Grace. Your beauty isn’t confined to what meets the eye; it’s in the compassion you show for others, the strength you possess even when things are rough for you.”

But he forgot that the Origin didn't start with a hunt—it started with a Dirty, Bloody, Un-Optimized Choice to be More than the Teeth. I didn't reach for the sunset-gold fire. I reached for the Original Sacrifice. I took the Sovereign-Fang—the weapon that had grown from the Hunt, the Soul, and the Design—and I didn't strike my child. I Struck the Hunger. I drove the blade of red-gold sinew into the "Natural Order" on the mossy floor. I didn't try to save my dominance; I Embraced the Fast. "I AM THE GIFT YOU CANNOT CONSUME!" I roared, the White Light of the Origin erupting from my spirit not as a sun, but as a Tidal Wave of Raw, Un-Digestible Sovereignty.

Black The Origin Chapter 2: vision His father has dark green eyes, illuminated to his vision. His slowly falling into the pit of it… The blue Moon was high up in the sky, can be seen at the window near a young boy's room. The moonlight peering to his opened balcony. He was wide awake staring at his dark ceiling where he can barely see the panting of angels with white wings. It was a spectacular painting, full of magic. Angels or so they called the goddess was looking way high in light under the clouds.

They say God created this world and its people. They say He wanted nothing but peace towards his people. But what was he thinking? How dare He create us, alone, without a mother? I mean how would we have peace amongst us in a place without a mother`s love? Only she knows what peace is, that’s why without her presence, peace became an unknown word and every human had to live for themselves, from their own sweat. After the era of segregation, I thought everyone born that year to infinity was called a ‘born free’. But to give it a closer look, there`s no such thing as ‘born frees’ in this world we live on.

I understood why I was here, why I was born. I was the bridge. I was the connection between the Human World and the World of Shadows. My blood wasn't just powerful because it was rare; it was powerful because it was pure. It was the original blueprint of life. "Ivan..." I whispered, my voice clear and strong again. He looked at me, his eyes widening. My eyes were no longer brown or red. They were glowing with a pure, golden-white light. "Elena... you are..." "I am complete," I said softly. I sat up, the water flowing off my skin like liquid diamonds. "The power is fully awake now. The Crystal poisoned me, but the Fountain healed and unlocked everything. I am no longer just an Ancient, Ivan.

Through these encounters, she recognized the hand of grace at work in every aspect of her life. Rita learned that grace was not a fleeting occurrence or reserved for the chosen few, but a universal gift available to all. She discovered that grace flowed through her life like a gentle current, guiding her steps, easing her burdens, and offering solace in times of uncertainty. It was through grace that she found strength in her moments of weakness, clarity in her moments of confusion, and peace in her moments of turmoil.

The memory was seared into her brain. It flooded her with guilt and shame but it wasn’t enough to push away the butterflies in her stomach or the sweet throbbing in her neck where he had marked her with his teeth. It was short, intense and with a person whom she had never met before, a person that was like an abomination to werewolves. A human. Her heart leapt as she thought of her little act of rebellion. It left a bitter-sweet after taste in her mouth – if her kin were to find out –