Destiny and her family have to make a plan. At a time when people are being killed and terrorized Destiny has to follow her father's plan to get her family to safety. Can she do it? Can one girl with the help of her adoptive sister save her family? Read to find out.

This is my first time using this website.....I hope this goes good. I'm sorry if the writing is kinda bad. I'm writing this purely for fun so any mistakes are because I don't realize it

a lot of kind of sad things have happened to me these past couple days so I'm just going to vent about it

Chapter 6 delves into the circumstances that pushed Coralis to develop her inner power quicker than she should have, for her age

BT. B1. Chapter 4 tells the reader how she got into playing flyball during her first year. Like I've said elsewhere on this side, contrary to what chapters 1-12 may look like at first glance, HP isn't my inspiration. School years matter, but they aren't what the storyline is about.

Chapter 5 introduces the main character to her parents past. The Prologue relates to the actual events surrounding their death, while the Chapter 5 will follow up on these events, from a 10 years later standpoint.

The Vile of Reverie is about where reality and imagination intertwine, taking the reader on a journey beyond the ordinary.

Returning home, Jared attributes his experience to one of being tired and stress. Calling a friend over, he hopes that maybe he shouldn't be along, little does he know since his otherworldly visit, he never was.

**Chapter 4 Description:** Star and Asher’s final fight shatters everything. She pushes past him, saying she can’t do this anymore, while he begs her to stay, swearing he loves her. As she hesitates, a flashback takes them to a summer day in the grass, where a younger Asher promised they’d always be together. Back in the present, that promise feels like a distant dream. Star tells him she loves him but needs to love herself more. Asher pleads, admitting he doesn’t know how to be without her. With one last heartbreaking look, she tells him he has to learn—then walks away.

This is the 3rd chapter of the novel. Main character is about to start her very first day at elemental school, away from her cousin. This is a whole new world for her, and she met her first friend there.

This is the 2nd chapter of this novel (or 3rd if you include the Prologue). The main character just found out the truth about what she is. Contrary to what chapters 1 to 12 will appear, HP is NOT my inspiration there.

This is the first official chapter of the novel. Please read the prologue first. The first 12 chapters will cover the main character school years, and will be longer than chapters 13+, because I didn't want to use too many chapters to cover her time at school.

She was an Elemental. He was Human. There was a Witch Hunt. She was targeted. He refused to lose her. They had allies, they had enemies. Blue Thunder’s legend goes deep enough that a trilogy isn’t enough to cover it. Will they survive long enough to see their grandchildren live their life?

Written February 18th, 2025, around midnight. A short poem that deals with dehumanization, disconnection from the outside world, and objectification of oneself as a statue.

Dan used to be the perfect roommate—until he locked himself in his room and stopped coming out. Now, he only talks to me through the door at night, his voice hollow and strange. Scratching sounds echo from inside, and sometimes, I hear him whispering things that don’t make sense. Then one night, I found deep claw marks on the door… from the inside. I should have left, but I had to know the truth. When I finally forced the door open, the room was empty—except for the gouges in the walls and a pile of Dan’s clothes, soaked in something dark. And from behind me, a whisper: “I told you not to open it.”

Mom never sleeps until we do. She sits in the hallway every night, silent and still, watching over us with tired, unblinking eyes. No matter how late it gets, she won’t close her eyes until we’re asleep—but it’s not to keep us in bed. It’s to keep something else out. Sometimes, in the dead of night, I catch her whispering under her breath, her gaze locked on the shadows at the end of the hall. I used to think it was just a habit… but now I know better.

The tenants of Greystone Apartments were not like ordinary neighbors. They moved too quietly, spoke in hushed, knowing whispers, and watched with eyes that seemed too hollow, too aware. Mrs. Holloway stood frozen in her window every night, staring blankly at the street below. Mr. Fischer shuffled through the hallways at odd hours, muttering things that made no sense. And the twins from 1A lurked in the stairwell, their pale faces expressionless, their stares lingering too long. They didn’t welcome newcomers—only watched, waited, and whispered warnings that came too late.

The mural on the Harper building was a living nightmare, never the same from one day to the next. Sometimes it showed serene landscapes, other times eerie, twisted scenes that felt too real. No one ever saw it being painted, yet it changed overnight—always shifting, always watching. And no matter what it depicted, there was always something hidden within the brushstrokes, a shadow in the background, a figure just out of focus. The mural didn’t just capture scenes; it revealed secrets—secrets no one wanted to see.

Mr. Blake was different from the others. He had tired eyes that darted nervously around the room, a shaky voice that never quite found its confidence, and the unmistakable weight of someone who didn’t belong. Unlike the other teachers—perfect, emotionless, and eerily precise—he made mistakes, fumbled with his chalk, and sometimes forgot what he was saying mid-sentence. There was a quiet desperation in the way he carried himself, as if he knew his time was running out. And when he spoke, it was with a cautious edge, like he was always afraid of being overheard.

Margaret Ellis was a slender woman with an old-fashioned grace, always dressed in modest, vintage clothing that seemed out of place in the modern world. Her dark hair was neatly pinned back, and her pale face carried a distant, melancholic expression. Her gray eyes, though kind, held an unsettling emptiness, and her polite smile never quite reached them. There was something strangely cold about her presence, as if she belonged to a different time—her soft, measured voice and delicate movements making the air around her feel unnaturally still.