Supernatural Fantasy Novels Novels & Stories

But what about measurable, scientific, real reality? He glanced my way, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. — Paranormal fiction exploded in the early 21st century. Do vampires exist? You shapeshifters, superheroes with supernatural powers, do ghosts really exist? I doubt that Does anyone care if they exist or not. The truth is that people are actually having fun reading and writing about them! Damien leaned forward, Thunder Struck in his hands. — The heart of a book is the hero. It has to be strong, it has to be larger than life in

"I didn't ask for this, but it looks like this book is entering the supernatural genre author. What next? Should I be expecting werewolves?." Author: What else can I say? My imagination is working overtime here.

Yet another fantasy Prologue Legora, the largest capital city in the world. Once one of nine, now there are four. We had lost five cities in the great calamity. Creatures from god knows where poured in from a tear in the earth. A dimensional tear in space and time the men of science called it, but really who the fuck knows? All I know is they were bigger, stronger, looked nothing like us and they outnumbered us hundred to one.

Emma said, walking deep into the living room. "Thanks." She walked to a set of shelves on the far side of the room, running her fingers over the spines of his books. A lot of them were classics, novels by Dickens, Voltaire, Dumas, Melville, and Hemingway. She smiled when her fingers ran over the spine of not one, but three copies of Mitchell's Gone with the Wind. There were modern novels, too, including Stephen King and Sidney Sheldon, but they didn't look as well read as some of the others.

I could feel his presence at my back—tall, warm, the faint rustle of his cassock as he moved closer. I kept reading, line after line about denying the body, about offering suffering to God, about the dangers of self-indulgence. My voice shook on the parts about “touching oneself in secret” and “fantasies that defile the soul.” By the time I reached the end of the first page I was breathing faster, nipples tight against my dress, the ache between my legs worse than it had been all day. Father Chris stepped around the table so I could see him. He leaned down, one hand resting on the open book, the other hanging loose at his side. His eyes locked on mine.

I wished with all my heart that Lucious hadn’t taken that smile away years ago. I looked back at the hidden bridge that connected the werewolf world to the human world. A wave of homesickness hit me. I didn’t know when I would return, but I prayed I would find my mother soon. Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked deeper into the forest. After a while, the trees began to thin, and a huge, luxurious mansion came into view. It stood right beside the border, like a fortress built between the human world and the werewolf realm.

"This is where she died." Seraphina felt cold crawl up her spine. "She?" "Eris," Kael said quietly. "A witch who thought she could use her bond with a demon to rewrite fate. Instead, she tore three realms apart." Seraphina hugged her arms around herself. "And you think I'm like her?" He didn't answer right away. "Your magic is the same type. The Bloodbound aren't born they're awakened. Something triggered yours." Her mind raced. "I was normal before this month. Maybe cursed, but not like this."

Not green, but blazing with his own will. “Get,” he snarled, teeth clenched, “OUT OF MY HEAD!” He pushed with all he had and not his body, but his spirit. The cord snapped. The spectre screamed, shocked and furious, it flailed, untied, losing shape. The journal burst with light, its silver scars blazed like a small sun. A beam of pure silver shot out, wrapping the spectre. It fought and shrieked, but was pulled to the book. With a final bright flash that blinded them, it vanished.

"Depends on the wolves, really. These ones? Traditional. Bound to cultures, customs, rituals, and strict hierarchy. Honestly, they cling to traditions more than any other supernatural creature I know. It's their method of staying grounded and hidden." That word—supernatural—makes me freeze, the last vestiges of my human denial crumbling away. “Wait. What other supernatural creatures? I thought we were the big secret.” "Hardly." Her mental tone is one of indulgent superiority. "Vampires. Witches. Fae. Demons, if you want to be dramatic. The things you always thought were fairy tales? They’re very real. They don't all live in a secret world; they just live in their world, which often overlaps

I owe it to you to make you powerful. My mind fractured. Images and symbols I didn’t recognize flashed in my head—ancient and very old. And then— Darkness. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and I was in a realm where fire fell from the sky and darkness, pain, and suffering reigned. This is going to be your world soon, Saraphina. Chains of flames clasped around me, and they burned. I cried out in pain—and I was back to reality again. It wasn’t really, but it felt so real. Too real. Was it all in my head, or was I actually there? I wasn’t sure.