Shadow Divers Novels & Stories

The old man wanted to take care of the Russian mafia himself so he didn’t let me go after him because he was scared I would end up dead somewhere in a ditch as well. I respected his wishes so I stayed away and let him deal with it on his own but it seems like I was being dragged into their business so now it was mine also. And they just signed their own death by pulling my dear baby into this. They should pray that I don't regain my strength anytime soon because if I do they won’t get out of here alive. They will meet their maker sooner than they thought. There is a reason why I’m called The Shadow of death. “No wonder Dominic is after you.” Mr.unkown said, tightening the hold he had on my f

“You’re drooling, Little River.” He teases lightly, and I flush. “Sorry” I murmur, but before he can say anything, something moves beside him and moves towards me as if coming in for a hug. I scream and jump back, only to take a close look… What in the Dr. Facilier shit, is this? Is that his shadow casually coming my way? “I-uh-I…” “Back.” He says, and the shadow seems to deflate sadly and then retreat into his actual shadow.

Down here, the only sounds were the rhythmic drip of unseen condensation and the soft, deliberate scuff of his boots on slick, slime-coated concrete. Three nights. It had been three nights since the "Blood Bounty" had lit up the dark web, painting a bullseye on his back visible from every shadow-corner of the globe. The first serious contenders had arrived, and they were everything the intel had promised: silent, professional, and lethally equipped. They called themselves the Ghost Divers, a name whispered with a mix of fear and reverence in the wetwork world. They were Tier-1 operators armed to the teeth with a bleeding-edge "Mimic" active camouflage system, a technological marvel that bent

The subterranean sea tunnel was a tomb of silent, black basalt. Deep beneath the glacial shelf, the Shadow’s Wake cut through the subterranean current, its shadow-infused hull gliding smoothly through the dark water without making a sound. The only light inside the narrow vessel came from the low, amber glow of the tactical displays and the warm, golden-shadow radiance emanating from our joined hands. Commander Mira stood at the iron helm, her sharp eyes fixed on the sonar screen. Beside her, Gideon and I watched the digital depth gauges tick lower.

Lukas and the others looked up while the rest killed the remaining Aswangs. And from above, a gigantic sphere of shadow appeared, swallowing the skies in whole. Lukas swallowed. He had never felt this kind of distress before. A pair of feet appeared, descending from the orb, and then the knees, followed by the wolf pelt that covered the groin and buttocks of the pale skinned entity. Until his finely detailed chest and muscular biceps followed, and a face outlined in dark red hair. A skeletal hand of a child hung around his neck.

"Just focus on the dive." Callum's expression hardened. The mask of the arrogant prick slid back into place instantly. "Fine. Be a martyr. See if I care." The dive was a nightmare. We were tasked with scouting a submerged ventilation shaft in the lower levels to see if it could be used as an escape route. The water was a thick, opaque green, filled with floating debris and the lingering scent of chemicals. Usually, our synchronicity was our greatest strength. We moved as one, a single entity cutting through the water. But today, the rhythm was broken.

The water beckons, promising coolness and escape, and she finds herself eager to push off from shore despite the preparations still ahead. A seagull descends from the bright blue sky, its wings spread wide as it hovers just above the water's surface. The bird soars gracefully, nearly grazing the gentle waves below. Melody watches, momentarily forgetting her discomfort as the seagull's reflection ripples across the bay. There's something hypnotic about the creature's effortless movement, a freedom she finds herself envying. She wishes she could feel that unencumbered, that light—unburdened by the weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders.

“Who.” The air dropped in an instant. Breath froze in their lungs, every candle guttering but never quite dying. The chamber seemed to fold inward, as if the walls themselves bent closer, pressing down on their ribs. Then, with a groan that echoed like bones breaking, the seal cracked. From its heart spilled shadow — but not like theirs. Not crow-black. Not familiar. This shadow was older, heavier, soaked in memory. Its edges gleamed red as if dipped in fire. A feather emerged. Long. Brittle. Stained faintly with blood.

My skin is extremely pale and my eyes are significantly sunk in like something just sucked the life out of me. I struggle while walking but make it to my bedroom. I lock the door and lay in there hoping to escape this nightmare.

It’s something older, something that’s been watching me from the moment I stepped into Gatlin Hollow. The water begins to churn, as if something is rising from the depths. I can feel it in my bones, this unnatural cold, this force that pushes against me. I gasp as something dark and heavy breaks through the surface. It’s a shape—an outline, shifting in and out of focus. A figure, almost human but not quite. Its face is a blur, as if it’s struggling to form, like it’s not meant to be seen.