Original Grace Novels & Stories

But there. "The Origin," I whisper. "What are you?" My mother finds me there. "Seraphina, you have not slept in days." "I cannot sleep. There is something calling me. Something I do not understand." She studies my face, her silver eyes dark with worry. "The Origin is not a place. It is not a being. It is the source. The beginning. The first spark from which everything else was born." "The first spark of what?" "Of us. Of the wolves. Of the moon. Of everything." She takes my hands. "The Origin is where we came from. The moment when the first wolf opened their eyes and saw the silver light."

Mrs Celeste muttered and they all turned to look at her. "They have always seemed deserving of each other. I never could quite understand what my dear Alora saw in that pauper of a man. Or you, in that Sin girl, or why your father..." she paused, gritting her teeth, before rethinking her statement. "Hell, she could have sucked his dick for all I cared." Mrs Celeste chuckled, raising a glass. The awkwardness of the situation made it difficult for anyone to share her sarcastic sentiment.

the voices intoned, “then let it prove its worth. Face the Judgment of Origin.” The floor beneath Soren’s feet split open—revealing an endless abyss filled with swirling constellations. From its depths, something ancient began to rise. It wasn’t a being. It was the first god—the one that existed before creation, before the Council, before even Travian. Travian’s voice faltered. “Soren… that’s not a trial. That’s oblivion.” Soren’s lips curled. “Then let oblivion learn how love fights back.” He opened his palm. His heart—Travian’s heart—blazed like a newborn star.

In my palm, the crystalline shard gifted by the First Power continued to pulse with rhythmic light. One choice. One irreversible moment. A chance to rewrite the entire tapestry of supernatural history, to unthread every tragedy and reweave it into something beautiful and unmarked by suffering. Before me stood the Original Source no longer appearing as a distinct being or recognizable deity, but as the pure essence from which everything supernatural had once drawn its first breath.

Not a creation. Just Grace.

This was the first quiet moment we had alone together. "Talk to me," I encouraged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's your gift showing you?" Grace sighed, her truth-seeing eyes momentarily distant. "It's... confusing. The Organization has layers of truth and deception so intertwined that even my gift struggles to separate them. But there's one consistent truth I keep seeing—they're afraid." "Afraid?" I looked surprised. "Of us?" "Of what we represent," Grace clarified. "Your family has done something no one thought possible—successfully integrated human and supernatural genetics with divine blessing. Created children who combine these elements in new ways. Established a pack s

"They were halved. An exchange of powers. Now you have two pieces of Seraphine. Technically Barima became part of Seraphine once absorbed. That's why her body didn't want to expel her. Now we have two nephilim-human-succubi-banshees. Plus sides are one, Seraphine should be easier for you to control now. And now she's basically useless to Ezekiel. She's only half her former self now." "Controlled? I don't think so. Useless to who? I'm sorry, but who is Ezekiel?" I blurt before anybody else can reply to him. Nox eyes me nervously, Axar chews his lip, and Barima has yet to let go of my hand. She squeezes reassuringly. I never expected such gratitude and compassion from a woman I wronged so inte

It was biologically impossible, a fundamental truth of the supernatural world. Until me, that is. I’m what my mother used to refer to as a tribrid. That’s it. No fancy origin word, no ancient prophecy. Just… tribrid. Because I’m the first of my kind. See, while the humans were just figuring out that their next-door neighbor might actually sparkle or howl at the moon, I had known about the supernatural world my entire life. It was just… normal. My mother was a hybrid vamp, born with witch abilities, which already made her pretty unique. But then she went and did the unthinkable: she fell in love with a wolf. Not just any wolf, but a pure-blood werewolf. A walking, talking contradiction to eve

Even the camera shutters stopped. Finally, the screen froze on an old file from the Appalachian Women in Business Scholarship Program. Name: Grace Walker. Birthplace: Red Creek, West Virginia. The photo attached was the same young woman outside the church. My grandmother. The real Grace Walker. The comments churned. [So the current Grace Hale is not Grace Walker?] [The letters are right there. He just said he rejected her.] [This isn't cheating. This is identity theft.] Henry pressed his lips into a thin line. His hand gripped the edge of the table. Sweat slid from his temple.

They were silver, endless, and unnaturally calm. “I am the Origin,” the projection said. “The first.” Kai stepped protectively in front of Evryn. “First what?” “The original host of the E.V.E.R. genome,” the Origin said. “The one from which all others were designed. Including Ivy. Including Evryn. Including every synthetic-hybrid iteration birthed by the Pre-Seeding Council.” Evryn’s heart pounded. “I’m not a copy.” “No,” the Origin agreed. “You’re the anomaly. The deviation.”