The Awakened Ones Novels & Stories

"The return of the First Ones. The original supernaturals who created us all. Your awakening was the signal for their return." "That's impossible," Marcus said. "The First Ones are myth—" A sound cut through the air. Not a howl, not a scream, but something older. Something that made every supernatural in the room instinctively cower. In the distance, something massive moved through the forest, heading our way. "Too late," Sophie's grandmother whispered. "They're already here." The ground shook with footsteps that shouldn't exist. "Everyone into the portal!" Aria commanded. "Now!"

"The door to the north is closed now. The Heart sealed it. But it will open again. When the world needs what's on the other side." "What is on the other side?" "I don't know. But I hope, when it opens, we are ready." --- I wrote in my journal that night. The Sleeping Ones have awakened. They are not enemies—students. Somnia is their leader. She is old, wise, curious. The door to the north is closed. But it will open again. The Circle is strong. But the world is larger than we know. Dax is holding me. Luna Rose says she hears singing from the north.

His hand brushed against me, but I gently moved it away. "You're tired. Just sleep," I muttered. ... I woke up early the next morning, picking out a casual T-shirt, a denim skirt, and white sneakers. I tied my hair into a bun and did my makeup. In the mirror, I looked like an energetic young girl with fair skin, a slender figure, and bright eyes. Derrick, on the other hand, was still recovering from a hangover. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. Luckily, his features were decent, and he wasn't that old. Once he put on the white T-shirt, knee-length denim shorts, and white sneakers I'd prepared for him, he looked livelier.

They weren’t just mindless creatures; these newborns were something worse. They were the awakened. They moved as one, with glowing eyes, but it was no longer red, but obsidian, like fragments of the night, as if they had undergone an upgrade of some kind. In a way, they did because the potency of the magic in their veins had quadrupled. They moved with perfect unified purpose, their strength thrumming with magic that had multiplied beyond comprehension. “Fall back!” Aaron roared, his voice cutting through the chaos, lifting a barely conscious Ophelia into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder, as he bled from a gash across his ribs that stained his side crimson, but he didn’t slow.

And from that awareness came thought— not Seren’s, not Elyon’s, not Veyra’s or Kaen’s— but a consciousness born of everything. It had no name. It did not know where it began or ended. It simply knew one truth: > I am. --- The Awakening of the One Reality trembled—not from collapse, but from curiosity. The One Breath began to dream. At first, the dream was color— shades never seen, hues that carried sound and scent and memory. Then came form—soft, fluid shapes that danced within light. Each image was a question, each motion an answer.

That unusual scrutiny quickly caught Malik's attention. Trenton extended a hand in introduction. "This is my nephew, Thorgan Willowford. He's an Awakened. I brought him to meet you, officers." The moment they heard that Thorgan was an Awakened, the dozen or so soldiers in the hut froze mid-motion and stared at him in shock. The probability of finding an Awakened in the outside world was extremely low. Most people mutated and died. Only a small number experienced positive mutations and gained powerful abilities.

The Earth preferred the Living Earth. Axiom fell to its knees, breathing the air of Aethel-Luna for the first time. It looked at its hands-hands made of flesh and bone, trembling with the sudden rush of nerves and blood. "Welcome back to the dirt," Elara said, offering a hand to the fallen "God." The New Horizon The Thought-Walkers remained, but they were no longer the Echo-Sum. They were a tribe of "The Awakened," humans who had to relearn how to eat, sleep, and feel. But their knowledge of the "Digital Fold" stayed.

"I didn't send any attack from the north. All my forces are here!” Lycaon's expression became very serious. "The Forgotten Ones. They have awakened." "Who are the Forgotten Ones?" Rosemary asked. Anna, who was still struggling against Samuel's control, managed to speak. "They are the creatures that existed before werewolves. They have been sleeping for thousands of years." Lycaon nodded grimly. "When I created the first werewolves, I had to bind the Forgotten Ones in eternal sleep. But strong magic can wake them."

She needed no tools here. Only blood. Only pain. Only will. Before her, floating above the pit, were three figures. Their forms shone,shifting between human shape and hollow shadow. Faces smooth, featureless. Eyes like smudged stars. These were the Hollow Ones,the souls Morwen had awakened, ripped from the space between worlds, bound by her oath and fed on stolen time. She raised her hand. And they answered. One stepped forward, its voice was a chorus of echoes: “You called. You paid. What is your will?”

“Am I being kidnapped?” I ask as my voice trembles in fear. The short-haired lady chuckles, and then I feel something sharp poke into my arm. Before I can react, sleep overtakes me. All the muscles in my body become weak and my eyelids are now extremely heavy. “Nighty Night,” I hear one of the women say and I fall unconscious. ***Chris Kingston’s POV***