Book 1 in These Cursed Origins

In the end, all evil had to do was sit back and watch us destroy the world. Supernaturals now walk the earth, ending those that are left or turning them to their cause. Until one mortal sees that all is not lost and love can still take root in darkened hearts.

After the world fell survivors banded together in an attempt to thrive amongst the chaos that evil had unleashed. The only way to make it, to have any chance at all, was to hide from the monsters. 

And to do anything we could to bring them down before they turned us to join their cause. 

I have been taught how to fight, the weaknesses of each faction of supernaturals, and the cardinal rule my community lives by. 

It is us, or them. 

Zombies have swarmed me, witches have cursed the land we grow our crops on, werwolves have picked us off, and vampires, they are the worst of them all. 

Until him. 

Survival tells me not to question what has been drilled into my head since the fall, but his actions show me that maybe, just maybe… We were wrong. 

Do I keep moving forward and focus on surviving in this post-apocalyptic world? 

Or do I dare to rise up for his sake, and ask the question that is sure to be my death sentence? 

Maybe they aren’t the monsters after all.

Supernaturals

Mummy-like. Bones hard as steel, not platinum as it has been tested for it’s strength. Eyes have protective film that is difficult but not impossible to penetrate. Skin is dried so sheds like a snake periodically. Nails harden and darken into long curving talons. Well hydrated zombies move quickly but clumsily while dehydrated one’s joints stiffen making movement difficult. Communicate using clicks, grunts, growls, screams, etc. Veins prominent, yellowed skin.
Witches mark is a black band tattooed from temple to temple with different designs based on what element they command. Blackened fingers and nails. Orange eyes. Veins blacken and become more prominent the more they use their magic for evil. Typically beautiful and prefer to be scantily clad so they can use their bodies to seduce and distract. Usually have dreads so they can hide elemental talismans so they can channel.
Run hot in temperature. Glowing blue eyes. Dark claws. Elongated incisors. Enhanced senses. Changes to massive, two legged beast that can run on all fours but prefers two. Warriors with a viciousness to rival berserkers of legend. Different shades of fur, snout, 8-10 feet tall.  Hostile to humans and other supernaturals. Loyal to pack and will sacrifice themselves for their pack mates. Vicious and easily enraged. Territorial. Hoards resources and view humans as a threat to their packs survival. Kills those they don’t want to turn. Turn others for strength.
Deep circles under eyes. Fangs that do not retract. Different shades of purple for eye color. Pale. Veins prominent. Lips have bluish hue. Cool to the touch. Cold and calculating, their intelligence is an even bigger asset than their fangs.
Cold and calculated. Have traces of who they were as human, some more than others. Extremely intelligent and hard to outwit. Frenzy for blood or sex when starved. Cruel and enjoy torture.
The Fifth is shrouded in mystery. Not much is known about the Fifth as it stays hidden and those unlucky enough to come across it either die or develop amnesia. It is quite powerful, though true abilities are unknown. Evidence of the Fifth have been shown as unsettling mass murders of both humans and supernaturals where the dead are gruesomely tortured then displayed almost mockingly. 

“Avery,” someone whispers. 

“Avery Winters, I see you, Avery.” 

I am helpless to do anything but whimper as I feel my blood well around the blade and spill down the sides of my neck. I try to fight, but my wrists remain at my sides as something crawls on top of me and steals the breath from my lungs. Tears flow past the barrier of my eyelids and stream down my temples. The pressure from the blade disappears, a narrow, wet tongue replacing it. The thing laps up the well of my blood, then the cooling trails of it that have flowed over. 

The temperature in the room has dropped drastically and the thing on top of me is so cold that every touch feels like a bite of frost against my skin. 

“I have tasted you, Avery. I know where you are. You won’t be able to hide from me.” 

The pressure on my chest grows heavier as multiple voices echo all around me. 

“We have your blood, Avery Winters. We’re coming. We’re coming for you, Avery,” they promise in harmonized whispers.

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