Apotheosis Book Novels & Stories

Angela Rizzo spent ten years scrubbing floors for the Bellini family. Ten years of whippings, stolen wages, and swallowing her pride like it was water. Then the apocalypse came, and the people she kept alive tied her to a pole and left her for the dead. She died screaming. Then she woke up two months before the end of the world, with a system in her head that could see anyone's secrets and a single goal burned into her bones: never be anyone's sacrifice again. "You think you can talk to me like that because I'm a maid?" Angela straightened her back, her eyes cold enough to freeze the room. Carmela laughed, thick and ugly. "You ARE a maid. You're lower than the rats in the basement, girl.

It was an image of Scarlet’s face. Caitlin felt her stomach roll with anguish. How had her daughter’s face come to be on this ancient text in a lost vampire library? Once again, she thought of destiny. It was as though everything had already been decided. No, it was more than that. If felt as though everything that was happening now had already happened before, as if they were living in a constant loop with history swirling round and round, repeating ad infinitum. The life she was living was just one cycle, one in which the outcome had been predicted before, but was not set in stone. She could change the premonitions and prophecies. Whatever was supposed to happen, she still had control over

I approached the pedestal, heart racing, while Damien stood a few paces behind me, his expression unreadable. I hesitated, then reached out and opened the tome. The pages were filled with intricate symbols, archaic text, and sketches of creatures that defied explanation. As I skimmed the pages, I began to piece together a narrative of balance and chaos—a tale of an order that had sought to harness the raw forces of creation and destruction. The text spoke of a “Chosen Vessel,” a being who would carry the mark of the Forsaken and become a conduit for ancient power. It described a ritual of transformation, a dangerous process that could either elevate a mortal to near-divine status or condemn

"It's Alexander, thank you. You may proceed." "So, according to the book which I told you about. It's called the Galaxus. It was compiled by ancient idols and spirits and poltergeists and many more. We had from Jove, Poseidon, and damn, I even got from the goddess of wisdom, Athene..." "Just cut to the chase, will you?"

I thought of preparing to produce in large quantities of ancient godly pellet for Justine so I passed the forest at airport hills and picked some of the ingredients and went home. I thought of going through the remaining two books to access what the book contains. Having eaten some fruits to my satisfaction I sat down behind the three books. I didn’t waste much time on the elixir production book. I took the third book to look at the caption. Behold it was chanting for astral power to rule the world, all the episodes. I quickly began to flip through the book to check if the book really contains all the episodes. It was from volume one up to volume twenty. I couldn’t hide my excitement. But I

As if we hadn't already gotten enough surprises in that moment, the book talked. "You have opened the special book of the goddess. This book was created as a lasting miracle of Goddess Selene to her descendants before she ascended into the heavens to watch and protect you all. I am voithós, the helper which she left behind. She assigned me to your ancestors and because she knew that I was only a helper and I had no choice but to help whoever found me, she changed my form into that of a book and locked me up with powerful magic so that only one type of magic could open me up. The magic of true love, true love is pure and no one with evil intentions can ever be able to experience such a pristi

I smiled. I had neglected to tell them I had foreseen this, their bonding under the full moon in the sacred baths, a ritual that would give them the strength and power to face the demons that would wreak havoc throughout the realm. A ritual blessed by the gods, binding them in this life and the next, for eternity. “Where is Riocht, Odeia?” Mathias stiffened with his question. I had a feeling he already knew the answer. “Where they dare not go, through the forest of the dead, you will find the city once lost. Upon the throne, the chosen will sit and when their blood is spilled, a queen will rise and a new era will be born.”

I pushed my hands away from me, as if that would stop the madness of killing me. My breathing became laboured, I was gritting my teeth, trying to cope with this excruciating pain, and I was drenched in sweat. I needed to tap into Antone’s power, and quickly. I don't care what he said last time. It’s the only way right now to delay the inevitable. Before I could close my eyes to tap into his powers, Antone materialized in front of me on the steps. “Apocalypse, what is it?!” He asked, voice thick with worry. Instead of waiting for an answer, he scooped me up from the step in one movement. One arm under my knees and the other supporting my back.

Right now, those three greedy fools were sitting in an empty house, stewing in the humiliation of being outplayed by the woman they had written off completely. Five hundred thousand dollars, gone. Four bare walls, and nothing but regret to keep them company. But this was only the BEGINNING. When the apocalypse came and it was coming ...they would finally learn what REAL despair felt like. And she would be watching. Safe behind walls they would never find, her daughters at her side, as every single monster who had ever hurt them was swallowed, one by one, by the world they had never seen coming. The real revenge had only just begun.

“The Gods are not in the water,” Orgullo continued, leaning in closer until her golden eyes were inches from his terrified one. “I am. And I am far more permanent than any myth you cling to.” She felt the pulse thrumming against her palms, erratic and fading. A small, cruel smile touching her lips. When the old mans body went limp, Estrela’s walked to the hearth, picking up a cane beside it and poking it into the fire. Once the cane started burning, she lifted it and placed it on the table. The cottage was silent save for the crackle of the burning cane. The small flame spread steadily, licking at the dry herbs and wooden shelves, turning the old man’s sanctuary into a funeral pyre.