The Shell Seekers Novels & Stories

“And get this—there was a whole group of tourists, like, a year ago? They all vanished here. Poof. The island ate them. That’s the secret. If we can catch anything on live stream, we’ll blow up. Our channel is so boring. This is our ticket.” So that’s my cover. A small-time streamer, here for clickbait and ghosts. I file it away. I don’t answer. I turn to look at the ocean, at the serene, sun-dappled waves rolling beside the ferry. My blood goes cold. Just beneath the surface, shadowing the hull, is a seething, dense cloud of small, pale shapes. Dozens. Hundreds. They have wide, unblinking eyes and mouths full of needle-thin teeth, opening and closing in silent unison. They aren’t fish. They

He looked around and neared his face to Hariel. "Prince, you can't just talk about those things here! Or the merpeople's existence will be found out!" Milo's heart is beating soo fast that he almost faints. The Shellphie is a cellphone underwater of the mermaids but only to call each other. Hariel grunted and nodded. "Okay! Don't worry!" Hariel said and do his work. Milo sighed in relief and started to use his phone texting his clients and his work that he will be late. Then something caught his eyes. Hariel is still busy with his work and didn’t see what Milo saw.

At the altar sat a sealed obsidian vessel, faintly glowing red—the Blood of the Ashen Saint. As Bain and Seraphina approached, the ground trembled. With a sudden crack, humanoid figures burst from beneath the floorboards. Twisted, eyeless, and stitched together from fragments of failed Hollow experiments — failed children, abandoned vessels. “They’re Hollow Shells!” Elias shouted. Sokolov drew his twin blades while Vulture blasted one straight through the chest, sending it skidding across the stone. “They’re trying to stall us!” Seraphina cried. “They know we’re close!”

"Shell walkers are insectoids that can take the shape of other beings. It's an imperfect disguise that even a regular human can spot; a hard and almost shiny skin is a dead giveaway. They can pass for whatever they're imitating if people don't look too closely. See one in its true form . . . well, you won't mistake it for anything else. If these are working for a vampire, then they're renegade drones, which means they've got a poisonous bit. The poison will kill mortals and make weres really sick, but doesn't effect vamps." Shane nodded. Sebastian knew his stuff, and Shane was glad to have him on board. "We'll be sending out three groups of three to investigate, mixing up the weres and vampi

"David, brief everyone on Thomas's information about our enemies." David moved to the tactical map, marking positions as he spoke. "First threat: the Seekers. They're the mercenaries who hunt Vessels to exploit their power. We estimate their arrival in three to five days. Their approach will be negotiation first... they'll offer protection, resources, and partnership. If Aeliana refuses, they'll attempt to capture her by force. They want her alive and functional so as to be able to extract what she carries." "Numbers?" Marcus asked.

They were pale, almost colorless. Mara drew her daggers. “What are they?” The fire inside me answered before I could. The warmth in my chest turned cold, the light dimming to silver. I recognized the energy immediately. “They’re seekers,” I said quietly. “Hunters of the old flame. They shouldn’t exist anymore.” Edward’s jaw tightened. “Then someone made sure they did.” The seekers circled the ledge, their forms flickering in and out of sight like ghosts. The storm seemed to obey them — twisting around their shapes, bending to their presence.

It looked like a Spore-Cloud. ​"It’s not digital, Aara," Thomas’s voice came through the Ravello vault, his tone hushed with a new kind of reverence. "The Guest at L1 just released a secondary vessel. It’s a Living-Shell a massive, translucent membrane filled with a bioluminescent fluid. It’s not a record of a dead world; it’s a Nursery."

They turned back toward the landing craft, their blades glowing with the same white heat that was currently incinerating my own nerves. ​I walked out of the Hub and onto the main observation deck. The Scrapyard was a vision of hell. Three Harvester Dropships, which were massive, tripod-like structures, had slammed into the valley floor, their legs crushing the historical archives of the old world into powder. From their bellies, swarms of Seekers were pouring out. They were small, multi-legged constructs designed to harvest biological matter, and they were moving toward the civilian sectors with a terrifying, silent speed. ​“You came to the wrong world,” I said. My voice was amplified by the

That was when I suddenly saw the silhouette of another ship, slowly appearing several meters opposite the Seeker. Could Gary’s ship be docking with ours? I dropped to a crouch by instinct to hide behind the scaffolding and looked out through the gap, immediately realizing that it wasn’t Gary’s ship. It was a familiar ship, however, with the white hull I was used to so many times that was marked with the obvious letters: Seeker! My eyes widened in shock as I watched the ship sail ever closer to me, until I saw a figure standing on top of it when it was just meters away.

Is there a timer? Shale stared blankly, blood soaking his trouser leg. **<< The weak… must burn… cleanse the future… >>** Spittle flecked his lips. He wasn’t just a sleeper; he was a fanatic, brainwashed by Thorne’s rhetoric, believing he was a savior. **<< Too late… the signal… received… >>** A soft, high-pitched *beep* came from the control unit Shale had been working on. A small LED screen blinked: **DISPERSAL SEQUENCE INITIATED - T-MINUS 04:59**