Bg3 Priestess Gut Novels & Stories

Zara breathed. Both women dropped to one knee without hesitation, bowing their heads deeply. The Priestess stopped before them, her ancient eyes slowly studying each daughter. Pride flickered there… but beneath it burned fury. “You arrived swiftly,” she said quietly. Her voice was smooth, almost gentle, but power trembled beneath every word. “The gods witnessed your devotion.” Zara pressed a fist over her chest. “We came as soon as we received the signal,” she said. “Tell us who must bleed.”

It should have unnerved him, yet instead it felt like recognition, like a truth whispered to him across lifetimes, finally spoken aloud. Then Shan’s voice surged up from the depths of his being, louder and more certain than his own. “I am Bagheshan,” it thundered, each syllable echoing with the weight of ages. “The warrior reborn. The eternal fang and claw at the side of the goddess!" The room seemed to shiver around them, and Kaplan’s vision flickered—half in the present, half in some ancient battlefield bathed in blood and fire.

“You are heir to more than Sterling blood. You are heir to the forgotten throne. Heir of the goddess cast aside.” Her throat tightened. “No… I’m just—” “You are the flame reborn,” the spirit interrupted, voice fierce. “And the world will bow. Ash to ash. Fire to fire. You will rise, or you will burn.” The fire surged higher, enveloping her in light. She felt heat course through her veins, fierce but not destroying. It was power. Claiming her. Becoming her. Tears blurred her vision. “I can’t—” “You already are,” the spirit whispered. “Queen of the Ashes. Heir of the Forgotten Goddess.”

And the priestess arrived. No announcement. No warning. Just presence. She stepped into the battlefield like the earth itself had allowed her through, her hands already raised, her expression sharp with focus and authority. And for the first time since the Blood Moon began rising— Something pushed back against the darkness. The Blood Moon pressure did not vanish. But it weakened. The priestess’s voice cut through the battlefield, steady and commanding. “By the ancient pact of earthbound guardians… I sever foreign corruption from this ground.” Her palms pressed down. And the earth responded. A wave of energy surged outward across the battlefield. Not violent.

My heart beat erratically as distant voices echoed from the main hall—murmurs of worry, of fear. The door creaked open. Elara stepped inside. At first, she didn’t acknowledge me. Her posture was stiff, her eyes locked on the crimson-cloaked figure beside her—a priestess. The woman bore obsidian bands along her sleeves, and her voice was tense as she leaned close to Elara. “Elara,” the priestess whispered, “if the relic fails to merge, the backlash could destroy her.” “She’ll survive,” Elara replied with cold indifference. “And if she doesn’t?”

The priestess kept moving toward the center of the room like she owned the damn floor, that uneven drag in her step still nagging at the back of my mind. Margaret was already settled in her chair again, looking way too smug for someone who’d just fake-ran out of here with an “upset stomach.” My wolf stirred under my skin, restless, but I shoved the questions down. Focus. One disaster at a time. Then the priestess stopped dead circling like someone just pressed a remote button. Her eyes rolled back until they were pure white, no pupils, no color…just blank. She started chanting under her breath, low and guttural, words I couldn’t catch but that made the hairs on my arms stand up. It wasn’t a

The chosen Priestess holds the golden drop of blood of a god, the goddess of the moon, and it contains unimaginable power that changes in accordance with the uniqueness of the Priestess. Priestess Eva Blood is a priestess of great intelligence and the gift of power given to her by the golden drop of blood is to see blurry bits and pieces of the future that could affect the balance of Selestine. But she failed to foresee the very own destruction of her beloved clan. A cry of anguish broke through the chaotic noises of the ruined blessed land as Crown Prince Rogeus’ dagger stabbed and cut open the chest of the remorseful Priestess.

She did not blink. "I marked them," she spoke aloud. "I marked them so history would know: I am not afraid." A flicker in the bowl. Not plague. Not blood. Ice. A woman's face. Silver hair. Moon eyes. Krishna. Perfera snarled and swept the bowl across the room. It cracked against the wall, splattering the walls with blood. She turned to the shadows. "Summon the priests. We advance the ritual." The captain moved forward. "My Lady, the magic hasn't—"

I know there is no way out, we both cannot fight the effect of the water so there is no need to pretend to be strong. “Come closer” the priestess commanded with a loud voice and I rolled my eyes a bit, surrendering myself to fate because there was nothing I could do at that point. I stepped forward, the shreds of the scarfs dangling on my wrist as I watched her bring out a medium-sized blue goblet from the bag brought in by one of her ladies. She still managed to pass a mocking smile to me as she turned the goblet to pour the substance which radiated a blue color as she poured it into a cup.

Every single time. He waits standing next to a large stone slab, a table carved from one of the pillars of the cave. As I approach, he removes his blood-red cloak, revealing his naked flesh, marked with the blue-inked serpent tattoos, spiraling along each arm, weaving into a complex network of knot work across his well-defined back. He turns, and shining in the faint light is a silver torque joined with a simple chain holding three linked charms--the full moon, crescent moon, and dark moon--the crest of the priesthood of the triple-faced goddess. The triple-faced goddess is our Sacred Mother, goddess of magic, motherhood, and rebirth. I can see every blessed inch of him, and I feel my body t