Amazonian Sunrise Ritual Novels & Stories

Lady Ella swiftly wiped off my tears and smiled brightly. “Aww. Mother sounds so much warmer and sweeter from your lips, darling. I always wanted a daughter and gave me the most gorgeous daughter and adorable little daughter.” She pulled both my cheeks and both of us broke into laughter. “I will tell you about the Sylvia ritual. This ritual is the purification ritual that comes after the pre-marriage journey ritual. In this ritual, the bride and groom take a bath in holy water and cleanse themselves…” “Together?” I asked, widening my eyes.

Ansel rubbed his face and exhaled deeply before looking at her. "Honey, I want you to know something about me. All this time... I... I've been David Foster's right-hand man. I had to... find a pregnant woman every three months for a ritual offering," Ansel replied in a soft voice, but it was clear because the villa was so quiet and empty. "Ritual? What ritual?" "A ritual to gain wealth, fame, position, anything. On the night of the full moon, we have to sacrifice a pregnant woman to be gang-raped, after which the fetus in her womb will be taken to be eaten and its blood drunk," Ansel explained bluntly.

"Very well. We begin at moonrise. Pray your soul is strong and we'll get your connection with your mate." As she turned away, I exhaled shakily, overwhelmed with terrified hope. Could I truly break River's shackles through this bonding annulment ritual? Either way, I had to try. My life and future depended on it. The hours until moonrise crawled by in agonising slowness. I paced my chamber ceaselessly, anxious to begin yet dreading what unknown trial lay ahead. But I refused to falter now when freedom was so close I could taste it. Once pale moonlight bathed the room, the old shaman entered silently, her withered face eerily serene. "It is time, child. The ritual awaits."

Hugh, the Teggãm, towered before them, his scarred chest bared, ready for the blood call. On a stone slab lay Alpha Mason, still unconscious, his body sweating and twitching from the goddess’s burden. Dixton hovered near, torn between brotherhood and fatherhood, his face pale with dread, scared for his own life. He knew the ritual might save them or damn them all. The air grew tense as the clouds parted, releasing the moon into full view. The wolves dropped to their knees, voices low at first, then swelling into chants that shook the forest. “Bërham ecrensã!” Annette cried, her knife slicing across Hugh’s palm. His blood sizzled as it dripped into the burning bowl, mixing with powders and oi

At breakfast, Garrett burst into the safe house. His face ashen, chest heaving. "Luna! Scouts are back. Seraphine's army... they're moving. Not a raid. A... ritual." "What ritual?" My voice sharpened; the bread in my hand fell. "The Bleeding Moon. Scouts saw her camp's center: an altar. Hundreds in a circle, chanting ancient tongues. Sacrificing living wolves. As fuel. For something greater." Thea followed, her shaman robes mud-streaked.

Something cold and uncaring. Being so young, I was not permitted to attend the ceremony. None of the women were allowed. Because I was worried what they were going to do with my friend's body, however, I stole into the woods in the middle of the night they were to perform the invocation. I watched from behind a boulder, at the edge of a clearing, as the Aghoran priest with the help of six men--one of them my father--prepared Amba's naked body. They anointed her with clarified butter and camphor and wine. Then, beside a roaring fire, seated close to Amba's upturned head, the priest began a long repetitious chant. I did not like it; it sounded nothing like the bajans we chanted to Vishnu. The

I replied, my voice a perfect mix of sweetness and conviction. The hill was a sacred place, a bunch of white stone surrounded by old, towering pines. And at the center was the Mating Altar, a massive slab of granite etched with the runes of the blood moon ancestors. The crowd fell silent as we reached the top. The elders stood in a semi-circle, their faces grim and expectant. In the center stood the High Shaman, a man so old his skin looked like weathered parchment. The ritual began with the invocation of the Moon Goddess. The Shaman chanted as he called for the spirits of the past to witness the union of the Alpha and his Luna.

Ruth Yes l have the one l collected yesterday. I will bring it right away. Cocoa replied as she turned to go back to the house. Sure be quick dear so that we don't miss the good time for the ritual. Mrs. Ruth added. Sure let me hurry up. Cocoa's voice faded as her back also disappeared from the back yard. Mrs. Ruth and Allan proceeded to the back. What is the best time for it? Allan inquired. It's best before sunrise and after the sunsets. At that time the pure gods are very active and the energy around us is clean. Mrs. Ruth explained.

Their colorful beads and crossed necklaces swayed as they danced, their white dresses and blouses stained with sweat. Mikael played the drums with two other male House members. We began to dance together. Aza, walking over to the tree closest to the clearing, suddenly came back with a large, green and black snake that worked its way up her arm from the box it was held in. It slithered around her outstretched arms, coiling around her neck, then wrapping itself around her arms again. They chanted to Dambala - the primordial creator of all life. The Sky Father. Aza got onto her knees, grabbed a bottle of white rum from the ground, took a sip, then passed it down to her sisters until it reached

The ancient citadel of Machu Picchu lay shrouded in pre-dawn mist, perched high in the Andes like a secret between heaven and earth. The first light of sunrise was just beginning to touch the stone terraces, turning the mountains gold and emerald. A private luxury eco-lodge hidden on a secluded ridge offered an unobstructed view of the sacred site, its open terrace facing the rising sun.