Psycho Shifters Series Novels & Stories

Caroline ***** My shift started out pretty busy. It was nice to focus on something other than my thoughts and interact with other normal people. I was starting to worry, Marshall's anti-social tendencies were wearing off on me. Except that I was already a little anti-social to begin with, so I couldn't fully blame him. He just enabled me by keeping me away from the general population. Damn him!

I stood up. “They kill children, babies?” He stared. “They make the death look natural of course… but they are still dying by magic.” “Magic Warriors,” I shake my head, getting on to my feet. “What the fuck kind of fantasy book have I landed into. I’m losing my mind.” I begin pacing. “The men that have been after me, besides you guys, are they these warriors?” “The Ma’Zhee,” he stands up. “Yes. No one knew a shifter existed until the incident with your foster father. Though the story was told differently to the humans, saying he was attacked by the foster kids he took in.”

Their hands ended all wrong, and their eyes caught the moonlight like animals, burning with intelligence that didn't belong to their current bodies. A cold, focused alertness spread through me, sharper than fear. It was the predator's recognition of something demanding its full attention. "What are they?" I thought, pushing the question to Sky. "Shapeshifters," she replied. "Not wolves. Much older, and far less principled. They can be anything–beast, human, creature. Whatever serves them. Right now, they've chosen intimidation. That tells us a little about who sent them." The six spread out, forming a loose arc that blocked every exit without appearing to try. It was practiced, the movement

"This is the one." I took the book to one of the nearest tables that had a lamp attached to it. I opened it quickly, searching for the page which had listed its weaknesses. "Wait, that's the one." Ivan put his hand on the page before I turned the page again. I looked through it, reading the description. Cloudy Shapeshifters that have the capacity to shift into any living being and can take onto the resemblances of a dead person. They can take away the life of any being once they trap them in their circle of red lightning and dark suffocating clouds.

My magic was fighting its way through the haze, trying to come up to the surface so I could use it to defend myself. What was shit was it was the kind of drug meant to subdue supernaturals who were out of control. Many shifters during their first shift were given a small dose to help with the sudden change and all of the emotional turmoil that came with it. But when used in large quantities, the properties of it changed from subduing to acting like ecstasy on steroids. I'm not surprised these fucking assholes had it on them but using it some girl in a club? Fucking disgraceful. Their elders must be real proud.

That's why every time they shift, they go through a painful process like it is the first time. Late shifters and their wolves can communicate, as in they communicate to each other as different entities in one mind, since the wolf lives in a werewolf mind. They have different thoughts and their beliefs can sometimes contrast each other. But early shifters are different. They are the same as their wolf, so whatever they say, do, or believe is the same as their wolf because two entities have merged to become one; they have the same thoughts.

These visions served as a testament to the Enchanted Realm's resilience and the enduring spirit of those who had walked its lands. Amidst the visions, the heroes caught fleeting glimpses of the Temporal Shifter—a shadowy figure that moved between the threads of time, distorting and manipulating them. The Temporal Shifter's presence was like a ripple in the fabric of reality, a disruption that threatened to rewrite the realm's history for its own malevolent purposes.

The resonance hit the pup like a physical wave of warmth, and Muna shifted instantly, her fur a beautiful, slate grey shot through with amethyst sparks. The "Rite of Remembrance" was a success, but the triage was interrupted by a jagged, discordant signal from the southern border. A group of rogue shifters, survivors of the corporate era who had never been mended, was trying to breach the Silver Line. They carried "Fragmented Scythes," weapons made from broken Abyssal technology that hummed with a sickly, grey static.

All things considered, I was off-base. 'Once more, it showed up, at the edges of the doors, holding some weird circle-like articles. At the point when different Shifters came to look, he delivered the circles, all of which delivered an abundance of sentiments that stimulated the Shifters that encompassed it. They were acquainted with numerous feelings that were not accessible inside our domain, like desire, insatiability, and outrage. The justification for why Shifters need feelings is to cause them to feel to some degree invigorated while they pause, permitting them to hold some of what their spirit initially comprised of. Notwithstanding, these... revolting feelings lighted a fire inside t

I said tightly, pushing through. But I couldn’t. The air cracked. A force repelled me, flinging me backward a step. My chest slammed into the barrier like an invisible wall. “What the hell was that?” The prophets stared. One of them stepped forward. “You can’t leave.” “What?” “There is something ancient around you,” she said solemnly. “It’s a Soul Shifter's seal.” My blood turned cold. “Soul Shifters?” I whispered. “They’re beings who jump between bodies,” she explained. “They extract souls. Replace them. Live lives that were never theirs.”