Paranormal Round Table Novels & Stories

It was where the Iron Law was forged in arrogance and enforced by fear. Today, we were replacing the iron with parchment. In the center of the room sat the Round Table—a massive slab of salvaged steel, scarred with weld marks and blast burns. It was ugly. It was functional. And around it sat a collection of beings that, a month ago, would have slaughtered each other on sight. To my left stood Rax, leaning on a scavenged rifle, representing the Nulls and the Dregs. Beside him, the scarred Sand-Eater Alpha represented the Rogue Clans, his yellow eyes darting suspiciously around the room.

“Oh. So if I want a pudding, all I smell is that?” He nodded, leaning forward on the table. “Yes.” “When you said other paranormal,” My thoughts went to Connor and Reed. “Did you mean fairies, vampires, ghosts, satyr and werewolves?” All the people in the room audibly gasped and turned their heads to our table, fear written on their faces. I looked around nervously and flinched. Uncle Al shot out of his seat. “Sorry about that,” he chuckled then said, “there are no Forbidden here.”

A dragon in human form, scales visible along her shoulders. "The one who will destroy us all," mutters a third. A werewolf with scarred features and eyes that have seen too much. Vess leads us to a tower at the heart of the city. It rises from the ground like something alive. The entrance is marked with paranormal symbols that shift and change when we approach. Inside, the tower is vast. Open. Circular. And occupied by beings that make Adrian's grip on my hand go white-knuckled. At least fifty paranormals stand arranged in a circle. Some I recognize from legend. Some I've heard whispered about in paranormal networks. All of them ancient. All of them powerful.

Seats rose in tiers like an amphitheater, each occupied by beings whose presence carried power older than nations: vampires with eyes like molten metal, coven leaders with hands delicately lined in runes, and pack elders with the smell of the wild still lingering in their suits. At the center, a massive conference table gleamed, untouched by time or mortal hand. They were waiting for them. ⸻ Lucien strode to the head of the table with Zaria at his side. The room fell into a near-silence, the kind that signals an assembly aware it’s witnessing history. “Lucien Wolfe,” intoned a tall, pallid man with silver hair and eyes like quicksilver. “You bring… this,” his gaze flitted to Zaria, “into our

"Rach, if you will." Vayu nodded towards Rachelia and she took the cue. She snapped her fingers and the air surrounding the round table was distorted by dark rainbow. A magic circle appeared on the stage's wooden floor, enclosing the area around the meeting table of the Scions.

It was a **Boardroom**. Thousands of "Shareholders" were sitting around a table that went on forever. They weren't people. They were silhouettes made of money and contracts. And at the head of the table was a man. He was holding a remote control. He looked at me with bored, tired eyes. "Ah, Subject 01," the man said. "The 'Origin.' You’ve certainly made a mess of the 'Restore.' Do you have any idea how much this 'Manifestation Event' is costing our insurance providers?"

he whispered, not quite softly enough. A ripple of uneasy laughter passed through the chamber. General Christopher's expression remained unreadable. "Perhaps introductions are in order," the Lady of Blades suggested, gesturing toward the table. "And explanations." As they arranged themselves around the table, Rex noticed an unusual object at its center—a crystalline sphere that pulsed with a faint inner light, reminiscent of the strange realm they had briefly entered during their escape from the tunnel. The sight of it sent a jolt through the golden bracelet, and Rex felt Fafnir's consciousness stir.

As Alpha Aiden entered the room, the air was always slightly damp and musty, giving the room an ancient, almost haunted feel. The room was arranged with a large circular table in the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs, each with a small pedestal in front of them. The pedestals are used to hold the cups and chalices of blood that vampires consume during their meetings. The table is adorned with ancient maps, old books, and various other arcane items that the vampires use in their mission planning.

A few people sat around a round table. Each person wore a black robe and a mask, which were all kinds of animals. It was really weird, like they were doing some kind of ritual. There was an oil lamp lit in the middle of the round table, and you could vaguely hear some prayers, even the sound of elegant piano music. The reason they came this time was to get in touch with this person, who could help them solve real-life problems, family issues, and so on.

They have someone to come home to. *** The round table is a thick slab of scarred wood that doesn't so much as shake when my knife sinks an inch into the marred surface. My knife is the last to go in and means the meeting is brought to order. The men look at me, meeting my eyes, trusting that I can control Beast and be with them on equal ground.