Cerberus Drawing Novels & Stories

Red ink scrawled across printouts of Greek translations. Cerberus: Guardian of the Underworld. Chimera: Fire-breathing horror. Eternal opposites. Gatekeeper and Destroyer. Her eyes burned from staring too long at the same paragraphs. But every time she blinked, she saw the mall. She saw Cerebus sedated, collapsing, dragged away like trash. She saw the newspapers calling him a monster. She clenched her jaw, whispering into the stale air: “You don’t even know him. None of you.”

Hades said. She was nearing the entrance and she took a deep breath before she slowly peeked into the dining. She stifled a gasp as she saw what was happening in the dining. Cerberus was on the wall and on his shoulder was a piece of metal rod—no, it’s not a metal rod. It’s a glowing weapon shaped like a lightning. Blood was dripping from Cerberus’ wound down to the floor and she could see from his face that he was in huge pain.

I provoke him, so he will be tempted to fight one on one with me. Cerberus has a big body built, with super-strength, fast reflexes, strong senses, and extraordinary power but his brain is smaller than a pea and a temper shorter than his dick. He is very aggressive and compulsive. He acts upon his emotions and not with his brain. I bet he will easily give in to my bait. His blazing eyes locked on me like a predicator darting on his prey, he exposed his pearl-white fangs with his ears shoved forward and tail held up high. As expected he charges at me without having a concrete plan. The growl evolved and fluctuated in so much rage.

Sasha gives me back complete control. “Hello, Ari, or did Sasha not give you back control?” The one head in the middle talks. I’m too dumbfounded as I stare at the largest fucking three-headed dog I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s the only one, but fuck, if I weren’t afraid of Cerberus, I’d think he was badass looking. Cerberus has dark greasy gray fair with streaks of black running through it. He’s massive, like the size of a dozen Dire wolves. His eyes aren’t just red; they are literally fire. His mouth is skeletal-like, and I can see every fucking sharp and long tooth individually. Black goo drips from his jaws. He’s menacing, and I don't want to fight him.

I shrugged. "She also mentioned that Cerberus has to do something with that earthquake! And that he is a reaper and he needs to be stopped at any cost." I mentioned, and then noticed Dominic was lost in deep thought. I waved my hand in front of his face and snapped my fingers to pull him out of his thoughts.

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

Adrian had removed his shirt, and right across his left pec was a black tattoo of a three-headed dog wrapped in a chain. "Now, you are going to answer my questions, or you are going to feel the full force of what Cerberus can do, and this is all before my Grandfather has his fun with you," I told her. "And they will be answers that I know are true. If I don't think you are being truthful, the Cerberus is going to bite and bite hard." "I really hope you lie," Adrian said, his eyes had taken on that dead look he got when he was in this situation. It was his way of coping. "Cerberus hasn't had a bite in a long, long time."

Her eyes alight upon scattered sketches strewn across the surface, drawing her in with an irresistible pull. Picking up one of the sketches, she is met with the striking image of a wolf, its form captured in intricate detail. As her gaze flits to another sketch, a closer view of the wolf reveals its menacing features—fangs bared and saliva dripping, an embodiment of primal ferocity. A series of similar sketches follow, each portraying the majestic yet fearsome creatures in different poses. A furrow creases Rose's brow in puzzlement as she contemplates the artist's apparent fixation on these lupine subjects.

And Camile already had enough problems without having to carry mine. “You… you’re sure it was the same man?” she asked. I pulled the black card from the back of my phone case and showed it to her. “I found this on the ground, right where he fell after I hit him. And the bald guy in the footage had the exact same tattoo on his back.” She took the card and studied it. “It’s a Cerberus,” Camile said. “A what?” “The translation is ‘demon of the pit.’ In Greek mythology, it was a monstrous three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the underworld, the realm of the dead—letting souls in but never out, tearing apart any mortal foolish enough to wander there.”