Heather Marie Adkins's Blog

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Midnight Whispers

I am not okay.

Those are words that many people see and FREAK the HELL out over. For good reason: they’ve lost someone to mental illness before, or they’ve seen the way mental illness can tear a person apart. They understand that sometimes, being “not okay” is a Really Bad Thing.

But it’s also okay to not be okay. It’s okay to need to say “I am not okay.” Just because I’m not okay doesn’t mean I’m unstable or not safe. I’m safe. I’m stable. I have a wonderful, supportive husband, parents and siblings who love me and support me, kitties that give me purpose and cuddles, books to read, books to write. I’m not going anywhere until I ride this beautiful, tragicomedy of a life to its close. Which will – hopefully! – be many, many years from now when I am old and wrinkly and even more ornery than I already am.

I’m just going through some stuff right now. And I need to talk about it, get it off my chest before I implode.

June 10th marked my eight year publishing anniversary. I’ve been publishing my books for nearly a decade now. And fuck, it’s been a struggle. It’s been a struggle uphill, barefoot in the snow. It’s been taking job after job to survive while still trying to write my own books. But surviving often means putting my own books on the back burner, focusing my energies and efforts on paid work and just trying to pigeonhole writing in when I can. When I left a day job to be a full time writer, I also started taking on EVEN MORE freelance work. Working from home doesn’t mean rolling in money; it means tracking down work wherever you can and trying to find whatever talents you have to survive. Which, alas, means doing more work for other people than for myself.

People look at me and see a strong, independent woman who’s going somewhere. They see my name on Amazon with more than thirty books and counting. They see me running newsletter services, designing bomb ass covers, launching list aiming boxed sets. My inbox blows up daily – Facebook and email, more messages than are humanly possible to answer. People think I handle it all with grace and pizazz. “How do you do so much?” or “You must be wonder woman!”

But I don’t. I’m barely keeping my shit together. Sometimes, I drop the ball. I fuck up regularly. I DON’T write my books because I’m spending every last second trying to do business to pay my bills, which spirals me into a well of depression and self-loathing. And goddess help anyone who asks for more of me when I’m already stretched thin, because I’ve been known to lose my shit on them, too. I have recently reached an absolute breaking point, where I can’t keep dealing with the stress and drama of the indie author industry anymore. I just want to fucking write books, and instead, my EVERY DAY is sidetracked, waylaid, steamrolled by other people acting like fools.

I feel very lonely and isolated. I’m no longer sure if anyone is my friend because they actually love me or if they’re my friend because it benefits them, because I can do things for them. Even people I’m supposedly close to demand so much of me.  I feel like I’m ripping the skin right off my body to hand to everyone around me, until I’m skinless, naked, and lost.

I feel like nobody understands me or cares about my mind and emotional state. When my entire world is in meltdown mode, my husband is the only one who’s there. Who tells me he knows I’m in a bad headspace, but he loves me and he’s proud of me and even when I’m a hot mess, quote, “You’re my hot mess.” Other than him, the only other person who seems to care about my emotional state is my psychic stepmom who seems to know just when her daughter needs a phone call and needs to hear she’s loved.

But while I’m dealing with all of this, I also feel like I’m on the verge of some kind of awakening. My bones don’t feel like they fit my skin, as if I’ve metamorphosed and my skin is the last to get on board with the change. Maybe the very tumultuous past five years wherein I’ve rebuilt myself over and over again have finally led to something. Maybe I’m finally going to shed the old me, like a snake shedding its skin. Shed the baggage. Shed the dead weight. Focus on ME and MY NEEDS going forward.

Over the last few years, I’ve really learned who I am. I’ve discovered how hard I can be, how easy it is to ignore haters (and also, jesus, there are a LOT of haters out there trollin’). I’ve learned how the assholes of the world can be loud – but I can be louder. How they can stab me in the back, but I can pull the knife out and throw it at their feet, because I’m the better person in every way.

Maybe it’s time to burn it all to ash and figure out if I can rise stronger.

For now, I’m going to go get something really bad for me for dinner. Come back, make a margarita, and watch mindless television. Because I’ll need to be back to work early tomorrow, prepared to offer the skin off my body to people who don’t deserve it.

Long time, no talk, blog people! I’m back with a new release that’s a bit different than my usual…

Before we get to that, though, I want to update you on my books. I recently pulled all my books down from all retailers to do a massive overhaul and relaunch. All of my free books are still available, but my solo titles have been unpublished. Watch this space in 2019 for some amazing things

Now! On to the new release!

—-

Spirits & Spells is a podcast by USA Today bestselling authors Heather Marie Adkins & Alex Owens, both of whom are obsessed with things they can’t explain – especially the weird, the witchy, and the woefully spectral.

Step beyond the veil with twenty-one spooky tales of TRUE supernatural encounters by some of today’s hottest paranormal authors.

Between these pages, you’ll witness a pair of disembodied legs cross the street and wake up beside ghostly felines; you’ll experience visits from deceased family members and be haunted by terrifying shadow people.

But be forewarned: these strange tales will send shivers down your spine and make you certain you’re not alone, even when you are.

The old saying is true: real life is stranger (and scarier!) than fiction.

Stories included:

Heather Marie Adkins – Residual Darkness

Alex Owens – Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Rick Gualtieri – A Ghost Cat, Broken Crystal, and No Body in Sight

Karin Cox – Paws For Thought

Jennifer Rainey – Up Close and Personal: A Visit to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum

Candace Osmond – Nightmares

Lily Luchesi – The Man in the Black Hat

Alyssa Breck – Wicked Game

Michelle Hughes – A Haunting on North Street

Kim Cleary – Uplifting Real Life Paranormal

Lindsey R. Loucks – Just Curious

Ann Gimpel – The Benson Hut Ghost

Shannon McRoberts – Precognition

Caia Daniels – We See Dead People

Tanya Dawson – My Paranormal Experiences

Brea Viragh – Poppy’s Coming

Debra Kristi – A Ghostly Research Trip

LA Kirk – Gravity in Reverse

Selene Kallan – The Chase

Bria Lexor – Encounter with the Devil in Mexico

S K Gregory – A Ghostly Encounter

and a bonus novella from Caroline Peckham – A Game of Vampires (A Vampire Games Prequel Novella)

ABSOLUTELY FREE TO DOWNLOAD!

 

Cities have collapsed.

Empires have fallen.

All that remains is a curse of shadows and ash.

Whether you wish to dance with witches at the end of the world, cross into nefarious fae realms, or pass through the gates of hell, EMPIRES OF SHADOW AND ASH has a story for you to brave.

Unwilling heroes battle ancient gods, hexed mages carry their burden through broken realms, and dragons soar over lands destroyed by the sands of time.

Forge your journey home as you traverse over one million words of 20 BRAND NEW stories by today’s hottest voices in dystopian urban fantasy where the line between fiction and reality fades and each tale haunts your thoughts long after you’ve turned the final page.

Fans of Game of Thrones, Supernatural, and The Hunger Games won’t want to miss this incredible collection, where every step leads deeper into danger.

One click today to find out why the end is just the beginning!

??NO DAMSELS ALLOWED!??

These 22 kickass leading ladies wield their swords with the same grace as their lipstick. ?

Join the badass ladies of HEROINES AND HELLIONS, 22 thrilling Urban Fantasy adventures chock-full of capable and tenacious heroines ready to save the day: from witches to vampires, shifters to fae, and every dark demon known to lurk the pages of fantasy fiction.

Dive into dangerous worlds with tenacious leading ladies who raze the day by securing your copy today for only 99c!

NO DAMSELS ALLOWED!

22 Kickass Heroines.

22 Exclusive, Full-length Urban Fantasy Novels.

And 0 Damsels in Distress.

Do you like your leading ladies to save the day… or raze it?

No matter which you prefer, this set is brimming with 22 magical stories (many BRAND NEW) told by some of the leading voices of urban fantasy in the industry, including several New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors!

If you want strong female leads who strike back against the captivating worlds of vampires, elementals, fiends, and paranormal monsters, then you’re ready to charge into the adventures of HEROINES & HELLIONS, a pure Urban Fantasy collection!

Grab your stake, silver bullets, and your limited edition copy of HEROINES & HELLIONS today!

…but remember: no damsels allowed!

This killer line up includes:

New York Times bestselling authors Margo Bond Collins & Erin Hayes

New York Times bestselling author Monica Corwin

New York Times bestselling author Melanie Karsak

Award-Winning author Bec McMaster

USA Today bestselling author Heather Marie Adkins

USA Today bestselling author Jade Kerrion

USA Today bestselling author SJ Davis

Award-Winning author Rene Folsom

USA Today bestselling author Michelle Hercules

LJ Andrews

Louisa Klein

USA Today Bestselling Author Melle Amade

Award-Winning author Ashley C. Harris

Award-Winning author Kim Cleary

Maria Monroe

Christina Walker

USA Today bestselling author Alex Owens

Award-Winning author D.D. Miers

Gina A. Watson

USA Today bestselling author Ash Krafton

Elise Marion

Award-Winning author Carly Fall

    

 

 

If you’d ask me to pick my favorite creature of myth a few years ago, the choice would have been an easy one. Witches, with their elemental powers born from the earth. They are conduits for nature’s awesome, and perfectly observable, raw magic. Witches are the closest thing we have to being possible, being real, in that regard.

Now with the years creeping up on me, I’d go a different route. Vampires.

They are immortal and at a time when getting myself out of bed each morning reveals a new ache or pain, I’d certainly appreciate the lack of cellular degeneration. Their lasting youthfulness could also fix what is wrong with my reflection in the mirror these days. Can’t you imagine it? No need to waste buckets of money on cosmetics, dental work, fad diets or medical expenses. That alone would have me greedily sucking down the nearest cup of platelets! While in my very own castle, of course.

Alex Owens is the Author of Dark Destiny. You can find out more about Alex here!

 

Beylin Callaghan belongs to the Brotherhood, an elite band of crow-shifters. His job is to escort souls from one life to the next, while wiping their memories for a fresh start in a new life. But he’s keeping a secret and her name is Pia. He’s loved her for eons, but in this lifetime she doesn’t remember him… yet.

Cassiopeia “Pia” Alexander is floundering. Her love life is non-existent and her only joy is her job as an Animal ER Nurse. Rattled by her crazy dreams—they’re too real to be just her imagination—and being stalked by a big, black bird, well, those things aren’t helping either.

Fate is tossing Beylin and Pia together once more… or is it something far more sinister?

Find out more in CREATURES!

 

Do you dare to Brave the Beasts?
 

CREATURES is a collection of otherworldly tales from today’s indie-favorite New York Times, USA Today, and International bestselling authors!

You are about to enter the realm of Creatures, a boxed set packed with more than twenty enthralling tales of urban fantasy and paranormal romance! From witches to vampires, shifters to fae, and every dark creature known to lurk the pages of fantasy fiction, you’re sure to find yourself up past your bedtime and reading well into the witching hour!

So curl up on your sofa with a steaming cup of tea and PreOrder today if you dare brave the beasts!

 

Join us on bravethebeasts.com

 

 
 

Featuring titles from…

New York Times bestselling author A K Michaels

USA Today Bestselling Author Gina Kincade writing with Kimberly Gould

USA Today Bestselling Author Erzabet Bishop

Boone Brux

Bianca D’Arc

Morgan Wylie

Felicia Beasley

Kyoko M

Jules Barnard

Monica La Porta

Heather Marie Adkins

Aoife Marie Sheridan

Alex Owens

Juliana Haygert

E. M. Moore

Skye Knizley

Shelique Lize

Lydia Sherrer

Wendy Owens

S.M. Blooding

Stephanie Marks

J & L Wells with Laura Greenwood

 

Follow us on Facebook! 

Creatures: A Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

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Order today to find out how these magical stories will haunt your dreams and keep you glued to your reading tablet well into the witching hour.

www.hauntedbymagic.com

____

If you haven’t purchased your 99c copy of Haunted by Magic, you better do it now. The price has an expiration date… and that date is SOON!

Less than TWO WEEKS till the release of Haunted by Magic! My book, Fragile Magick, is absolutely exclusive to this set. Here’s a sneak peek!

~*~

 

Brynja clucked and muttered in German as she gently turned Dad’s palm over between her small hands. “Oh, Mikhail. How did this happen?”

I cringed as the tips of his fingers came into view. They were colored purple, nearly blackened.

She shook her head and clucked again. I waited irritably for her to tell more, to give me more information.

To give me reassurance that we could fix this.

Brynja lay his hand down and reached for the covers. Dad grunted as she pulled them away from his torso, but he didn’t awaken. Perspiration beaded along his hairline, and his skin had paled even more from earlier that evening.

She tugged at his sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen. Dark lines carved pathways beneath his skin, all roads converging in a circle of spider-webbed darkness where his heart beat.

A wave of nausea hit me. I sat on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes against the sight of my father’s magickally destroyed body.

“He really has worked himself to death,” I murmured.

“What?” Brynja sounded lost in thought. She covered Dad up again and looked at me. “No, sweetheart. This isn’t something he’s done to himself. He’s been cursed.”

“Someone did this to him?” My vision swam. I leaned forward and stuck my head between my knees, sucking in deep, even breaths. Someone had cursed my dad.

Someone had cursed my dad.

Jerick leaned stoically against the wall by the door, all trace of his good humor gone. He asked, “What can we do? Can we heal him?”

“We can try traditional methods — some tinctures meant to curb spells perhaps. But ultimately, our only road from here is to find out who did this. The perpetrator is the only person who can cease the spell before it…” Brynja trailed off.

Kills him hovered in the room around us.

“Can we trace the magickal signature?” I asked.

Brynja trailed a palm over Dad’s torso. She closed her eyes as her hand hovered over his heart. She shook her head. “We can try. I can’t sense anything. It’s so easy now to hide one’s signature.”

Easy for her to say. My signature may have been a neon-flashing go-go dancer, for all the stealth it had. The Council catalogued all witches by thirteen years of age, when their powers became most evident. If I cursed someone, the Council would take one whiff of the magick and haul my ass to jail.

Between the collected centuries of practice shared by Herm, Helga, and Brynja, we didn’t need a spell to confirm what they could tell by sight. But a brief spell using Dad’s blood validated what we already knew — it was a curse, and it couldn’t be traced.

“What now?” I asked. My father slept soundly, his chest rising and falling beneath his layers of warm clothes.

“We have three days from the beginning of the spell to stop it,” Brynja responded, subdued. “Two of those days are gone.”

“So, what can we do?” Jerick cut in.

Brynja caught his eye and touched her forehead in an acknowledgement of the divine. “Pray.”

* * *

Brynja left soon thereafter in a cab. I sat on the edge of my father’s bed, Jerick in a chair in the corner, as Dad slept. His breathing seemed labored; his face sweated profusely. He moaned under his breath and rolled to his side. I touched his leg, at a complete loss.

On the floor at my knee, Herm leaned against me soundlessly.

“I don’t know what to do,” I murmured. “I can’t live without him, Jerick. I can’t lose him. He’s all I have.”

“You have me. Herm. Brynja.”

“I know, but he’s my dad. He’s my world.” The words caught in my throat, strangling me. I wanted to scream or cry or stop breathing entirely.

The room was dark, lit only by the ceaseless annoyance of infomercials. They comforted Dad. They always had. He could sleep with them going all night, the sound high enough to wake the dead.

Jerick took a shaky breath. “What would you do to save him?”

I looked at him like he’d asked me the stupidest question in the world. “Anything. I would do anything to save him.” And I felt it intensely, deep within my gut, an ache that told me I would sacrifice heaven and earth to save my only parent.

Jerick closed his eyes. “I’m going to regret telling you this.”

“You never regret telling me anything. You’re a gossip.”

I expected my cousin to laugh, but he just opened his eyes and leveled a serious glare on me. “There’s a guy you should see. I’ve heard of him before, but I’ve never met him. Not personally. I don’t know… he’s always seemed like a-a boogey man. Nobody I know has ever met him. Legend says he holds the key to the gates of hell.”

“Hell isn’t real. Neither are boogey men.”

“But do you know that? For sure?” His black eyes glittered in the dark of the room.

I shivered and clutched Dad’s knee as if he could ground me to this place and time, where hell didn’t exist and he could still get better.

“The underworld?” I said uncertainly.

Jerick nodded. “This guy can get you in. That’s what I hear, anyway.”

“Jerick, that’s insane. The underworld isn’t real. Even if it was, why would I want to go there?”

“Because the Lord of the Underworld has more power over life and death than you or I could ever imagine. He might be able to save Mikhail. At a price.”

* * *

I found myself walking the streets of East Harlem in the hours before dawn, feeling foolish as fuck for listening to my idiot cousin.

This area of town was as rough as the hide of a shark, and if you spent long enough around it, you’d bleed. But I palmed my pepper spray and kept my protection spells wrapped tight around me, my sights set on a specific address.

I was on a damned fool’s errand, and I knew it. Jerick’s idiot friends and their idiot tall tales. I’d probably find a crack house at the end of this carefully handwritten address, complete with a man waiting to rape and murder a sweet little twenty-something like me.

I clutched my pepper spray tighter and wished my imagination would shut the hell up.

Less than twenty-four hours till sundown and the beginning of Samhain, and I felt the spirits restless around me, like they were in my little Jersey house. The veil was thinning quickly, and who knew what beasties followed me in the night. I longed for the sun to chase away the shadows; I longed for streetlamps that weren’t busted and eyes that didn’t follow me in the night.

“Out for a good time, baby?” a woman asked as I passed her hidey-hole. She perched on a cracked set of porch stairs, her long brown legs bare beneath a mini-skirt that barely hid her goods. She leaned forward, smiling, thick, heavy breasts swinging. “Momma’s got what you need.”

I ignored her, but put my finger on the button for my spray.

“Or maybe Momma can find you what you really need,” the woman called as I hurried past. “We’ve got it all, baby. We can give you all.”

I counted to five, doubling my steps to the words. Nothing followed me but the sound of her phlegmy laughter and the lonely hoot of an owl.

I reached my destination without further molestation. I didn’t have a name — just an address that took me to a Spanish grocery.

The place was closed for the night, lights off and no one around. I peered through the barred windows, searching for any kind of movement within but to no avail. A security light illuminated an empty row of aisles stocked full of brightly colored kibbles, but no people. I knocked; the sound echoed down the street. God knew what kind of attention that would bring.

Casting a furtive glance around me, I checked for witnesses. If there were any, they were well-hidden. I closed my eyes and centered myself, then traced a sigil on the glass front door. Raidho, the rune of travel. I visualized the glass and bars fading, allowing me entry.

Manipulation of energy. Manipulation of molecules. I may not have been able to piece things back together when they broke, but I could damn sure take them apart.

I walked through the bars as if they didn’t exist, and the store’s cool interior rushed around me. Behind me, the entrance sealed together again, and I moved further inside.

I stalked through the grocery, searching for anything out of place. The gently humming refrigerators yielded no results, and the back room was surprisingly clean but devoid of inhabitants. The bathrooms smelled of disinfectant, and the cash register hung open, money drawer gone, presumably in the safe for the night.

But I felt… something. Something not quite right in the darkest corners of the back room.

Calling up Witchsight isn’t hard, but the amount of energy it requires can knock you on your ass. I closed my eyes and reached for my power, the German words my father once taught me flowing from my lips on a whisper. Witchsight would reveal things not visible to the mundane world. Anything touched by the paranormal, by the Otherside.

I felt the energy settle over me and opened my eyes, blinking against the sudden flare. The once dark store was now illuminated by the cast of otherworldly energy. The stuff was everywhere, as if the Otherside had taken up residence in a lonely, privately-owned grocery.

And near the small office, I found an outline of a door in a wall where there was none.

A magickal door required no handle to open. I pressed my fingers to the wall and pushed, and the door swung inward, brilliant light exploding from the interior.

Whatever lay behind the door was most definitely magickal.

I let go of my Witchsight; otherwise, I’d go blind under the weight of it. The ensuing darkness seemed even more deep and dangerous, so I whipped out my phone, triggered the flashlight, and began to descend.

The narrow stone staircase sloped further at every turn, until I had to hold the wall in one hand to keep myself from tumbling down. I took step after step, the earth bearing down on me more with every sweep of the staircase. I walked forever, until I felt the sun had risen above and the world had turned on its axis to begin anew without me in it. Still, the staircase went on.

When the end came, it was so abrupt I nearly fell over my own feet on solid ground. I leaned on the wall, dizzy and disoriented. A hallway stretched into an apex of night before me, my little flashlight revealing nothing.

I fought back a thrill of terror and pressed on.

If the staircase took forever, the hallway took longer. An entire age of mankind could have passed in the silent solitude of my journey. I felt so outside of myself, as if I’d born, lived, and died to walk this tunnel.

I passed no cross tunnels. No doors. The never-ending coffin of stone made my skin crawl until I was ready to claw my way to the surface with only my fingernails.

“Fucking ridiculous,” I spat, kicking at the dusty floor. Something about my voice steadied me. Reminded me I was real. “What am I doing? Where the hell am I? Hello!”

My yell echoed ahead. I laughed, a little hysterically, because it was better to do that than cry.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the hallway. I thought I’d imagined it at first — a gray shadow with no substance, a trick of the eye because I’d clearly lost my damn mind. But then the shadow blinked, and I was no longer alone.

He was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Messy blond hair fell into eyes that shone mahogany in the light from my camera. He was huge, taller than me by a head, wider than me by a world. Shadows painted hollows on the sharp planes of his face, and he looked like someone’s interpretation of classic beauty in blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

Then he slammed me against the wall.

My head hit stone and lights flashed where vision belonged. I noticed in an offhand, uninterested way that my phone flew from my fingers and click-clacked down the stone floor, light extinguished. His hand remained on my shoulder, pinning me to the wall.

I raised a hand to his shoulder and called my power. Witchsight was a pretty amazing thing; see, what infiltrated the mundane world and allowed me to see the unseen could also be gathered and used as a weapon. Witchlight.

Pure energy rushed towards me as I spoke the incantation. I could draw the Witchlight in, like a sponge soaking up water, until I was the one who shone and the world around me dimmed beneath my glory.

Witchlight hit him with a force no less than his own punch. He stumbled backwards and hit the opposite wall, steadying himself with both hands on the stone. I raised my palms, glowing brilliant green, and he hissed.

Sharp, pointy canines glinted in the Witchlight.

~*~

Have you preordered?

HAUNTEDBYMAGIC.COM

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Haunted by Magic Diaries:
Real life unexplainable events from the authors.

 

“I was ten and it was the night of my birthday party. After the party when I entered my room, I thought I saw a pair of glowing eyes. I screamed and ran to my mother who had just put my baby sister to bed.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I think there is someone in my room,” I said.

My mother shook her head in frustration. It had been a long day of arranging for my party, catering to screaming children and then cleaning up all the mess we made. She could have just yelled at me, instead, she chose to accompany me to my room. She turned on the light.

“See, there is no one here,” she said with a smile. “You have such a wild imagination. Now go to sleep.”

Feeling much better I allowed my mother to tuck me into bed. I felt myself drift into sleep as she closed the door and turned off the light but as soon as I was alone I felt a prickle on my skin as if someone was watching me.

Too afraid to open my eyes I remained in the sleeping position hoping that whoever it was would go away. Suddenly there was a sound of rattling chains and I opened my eyes and screeched at the pair of glowing eyes staring back at me.

Lights of my room turned back on again and the eyes vanished. My mother stood there, this time looking furious and exasperated. That night I slept with my parents and the eyes never showed back again but the memory has been etched in my brain forever.” – Pamita Rao

 

Pamita Rao is a multi-genre author who lives in Europe with her husband. She spends most of her time thinking of unique concepts and creating fascinating stories with them. www.pamitarao.com

 

 

 

 

Pamita’s book blurb:

 

Demons and Gods have been at war since the beginning of time. Demons want their rightful place in Heaven and the Gods will never let that happen. When every effort fails, the Demons decide to use all their powers to attack and destroy the dearest creation of the Gods–planet Earth.

After losing her parents at the age of ten, Patricia Kimwell moves from one foster home to another finally ending up being adopted by the NYPD Chief of Police Ben Garrison, who along with his son, provides her with a home she desperately needs.

Now a cop at NYPD herself, Patricia is determined to serve her country and begins taking up tough cases that challenge her at every level till the day she comes face to face with the inevitable–her destiny. She feels an energy within that she cannot understand or control. She sees demonic creatures that others are unable to see driving her into fear and self-doubt. All the chaos in her mind is put to ease by a guardian angel who is sent by the Gods to help her realize her true powers and fulfill her destiny.

She learns that she is an incarnation of an ancient warrior princess blessed by the gods with great powers to defeat Demons in their quest for total Apocalypse on earth. She is now faced with an ultimate choice–reject her destiny and doom the earth into total apocalypse or accept her true self and rise against the demons.

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