Astral Apostle Novels & Stories

Their gold icons on the map turned a violent, necrotic purple. "Phoenix! The resonance is being hijacked!" Ryan’s voice shrieked from the orbital relay, his face a mask of absolute, structural failure. "The Apostles... they aren't attacking us. They’re using the global stabilization frequency you just established as a back-door! They’re slaving the minds of every wolf you just saved!"

Faelon eyed him waiting for him to speak. "Phil is Philippos the lover of horses and a guardian angel under Raguel. They work to improve justice in the spiritual realm. That dude Randall Mathis is causing major rifts and the higher-ups are trying to remove him. I think we just got entangled in a demon and angel war. Puts you in a pickle since you are half of each," Atlas muttered sourly. "What does Sophia have to do with all of it?" Faelon growled in frustration. "Gotta ask the horse lover. I'm certain that he knows that answer," Atlas grunted.

"You were completely right to slap me. I was acting like a fool. I should be focusing entirely on our mission to liberate this land instead of chasing old feelings that are long gone. You love Dorian, and I need to respect that. I am here to help you fight for our people, nothing else." Before I could reply to his apology, heavy footsteps thudded against the wooden floorboards at the far end of the hallway. Elder Robert stepped into the corridor, accompanied by a tall, heavily built man dressed in dark tactical armor. The man had sharp grey eyes, a long scar across his left cheek, and two heavy pistols strapped to his chest. This was Azrael, a former elite army commander for the Moonstone pa

Then I pivot, seizing *his* timeline instead. --- **The Apostate's Fall** His scream is symphonic. "*What are you doing?!*" "You're not a judge. You're a fugitive." The static weaves through his essence, unraveling lies. Memories flood me: -The Apostle, once a mortal scholar, devoured by the Silence. -His rebirth as a hybrid, a self-proclaimed curator of endings. -His fear of the Seed, the one force that could unmake his purpose. "You're jealous," I hiss. "The Seed doesn't end stories-it *grows* them."

Why me? "What makes you think that I'm powerful and special?" "You're a Zodiante, you have the power of the stars. You're powerful, you can to things other can't." The guy next to me coldly replied. "A what now?" "A Zodiante, like me. You have the power to summon a specific celestial spirit, Goddess Virgo. You must be special for a star to choose a human being like you." I could feel the hatred in his voice. "Why did it choose me?"

Sasha, attuned to the whispers of astral winds, murmured, "The answers we seek are written in the very breath of this realm. We must listen, for the astral winds carry the secrets of the cosmos." Maris, a guardian of earthly and astral realms, cautioned, "The astral challenges may not be tangible, but they are no less real. Stay vigilant; the astral enigma tests not just strength, but perception." Seraphina, her lyre resonating with astral melodies, played a tune that seemed to merge with the very essence of the realm. "Our journey is a symphony, each note resonating through the astral expanse. Let our melodies harmonize with the cosmic energies."

"Born with these gifts, not infected with them. These Ascended are thieves, stealing power that doesn't belong to them. We must strike first or be destroyed." The second movement was somehow worse. The Ascension Church, founded by a charismatic pastor named John Redfield, claimed the transformation was divine intervention. The Rapture. God elevates humanity to its rightful place above all other creatures. "We have been chosen," Redfield preached to thousands of Ascended followers. "God has given us these gifts so that we may rule the Earth as was always intended. The age of monsters is over. The age of mankind begins now." Both movements were gaining followers by the hour. I stood in my comm

” Noticing that I haven’t even made an attempt to speak or even move -since I was practically unable to even breathe anymore- she only continued, “Ookaaay, first things first,” “In case you were wondering, the reason why Azrael isn’t a fallen is that he’s...Well let’s just say he’s not your “regular” Archangel like the others, since he’s one of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and all that shit... And since his grace is practically bound to my soul...Uh...let’s just say that as long as I’m alive, he’s...He will still be his...usual self...” Even though that last sentence left me feeling somewhat confused -mostly by the way she so evasively explained it- I however chose to mainly focus on

/ [If you stood in the middle of your courtyard, I can see slightly beyond it. Luna recalled the look of her small courtyard. /That's not very wide./ [That's not my fault. The range will expand when your astral energy strengthens…] It sounded a little huffy to her now. /Astral energy? What's that?/ [Astral energy is also known as spiritual energy in this world. The terms are interchangeable.] /So I can strengthen it in the same way people in this world strengthen their spiritual energy?/ [Yes.] /I'll work on it then. Is there anything else you can do?/

"Zora Vane." I spun around. Standing on the catwalk behind me were the twelve Apostles. They hadn't followed me into the water; they had simply materialized through the "Void-Rift" I had left in my wake. Their white-gold gowns were glowing with that same, parasitic blue. And in the center of them stood Dante. He didn't look like my husband anymore. He looked like the King of the Hive. "You cannot hide in the mud, First-Born," the Apostles said in unison. "The world is becoming the Spire. The mud is being deleted."