Demonic Statue Of The Outer Path Novels & Stories

Unable to ignore the curiosity I was beginning to feel, I let him lead me through the graves that created our path and up the large stone stairs. Releasing my hand, Mykel placed his hands on the large stone keeping us out and pushed until it began to move. When there was a big enough space for us to go through, he grabbed my hand again and pulled me inside. Gasping, I let my eyes take in the area around me. "This is?" I managed, eyeing the walls that were painted to look like the night sky and the large statue of the goddess that sat in the middle, holding a young wolf with glowing red eyes. At her feet was a pond with a jewel-encrusted moon beneath it.

But gargoyles they allowed to live with them. So we became the guardians of their most sacred places. The stone representations were merely made to represent what was happening. A creature that was part demon protecting a house of God. Pretty ironic seeing as how we were exiled from heaven and how the lord didn't want to hang out with us. Yeah, I'm not a big fan of him. He supposedly created us, along with everything, but he can't stand to have us with him in the same place. Gets on my nerves. And if that's how the lord of everything treats us, then I can't think of how Bennet will treat me when he sees what I truly am. And at the current pace he's going at, he's going to find out. Something

Suddenly she felt a slight jolt and pulled her hand away. She looked up to see the evident smile on Damian's face, "Let's cancel your wedding, shall we?" It was past midnight when Damian disappeared from Arianna's room, where she was asleep. He appeared in front of a huge valley that had layers and layers or broken stone and lots of statues, Floating casually, he eyed the statues with a nonchalant expression until he came to one. It was the statue of a man who stood with an axe in his hands ready to strike.

But my mom just smiled. “That’s my girl.” I smiled proudly. “But what is that?” She picked me up and walked over to her bookcase, she pulled out a really old book and opened it. On the page was a man with horns on his head and a long tail. “So, a demon is usually a very strong being. One who will use tricks and magic to punish anyone who makes them angry. Many people are afraid of them, because they are really strong and don’t show mercy to their enemies.”

But the only thing that caught the leader's attention was the statue of Saint Vincent in the middle, winged and holding a book. It extended its claws and attacked the statue, sending it from the pedestal with a thrust of its hands to watch it fall. The statue smashed into millions of pieces, earning attention from the humans in the immediate vicinity. At first, they thought it was some kind of a cruel joke or the Saint himself had miraculously moved, but it took them a minute to fully register that a demon-like monster was standing on the pedestal in place of the Saint. Then they began to scream as the monster moved to another target and scythed another skull from a pregnant woman. Behind, t

But everything crumpled down when she found out the truth. This is Dark Hades call. He only comes out when there’s death. He only comes out when there’s evil and blood. Because death and darkness are always the demon’s call.

But Dante. Dante isn't a man anymore. He is a ten-foot-tall Statue of Obsidian and Lead, his arms forever frozen in a protective embrace over the spot where the child lay. He has become a "Permanent Anchor"—a biological lightning rod that is now the only thing keeping the Earth from being reclaimed by the stars. I touch his cold, black cheek, and for the first time in the story, the "Lead-Bender" weeps. But then, a sound comes from the statue. A low, rhythmic thump-thump.

The hooded figures began to chant, their voices rising in a dissonant, haunting harmony: “Born of the shadow, the flowers shall rise. Through the vessel’s pain, the old world dies.” The Vhalir watched the carnage with a look of serene boredom. He watched as the blood reached the center of the sigil, where a single, black flower made of obsidian and shadow began to sprout from the stone. He stood up, his golden hair catching the dim light of the torches. He looked toward the ceiling, as if his gaze could pierce through the miles of earth and stone to find a small apartment where a boy was waking up from a nightmare.

It grew heavy, heavy, with the smell of ozone and rich, oxidized soil. She knew it was Hades. Not Pluto, not Dis Pater. This was the older, more austere god, the one who governed through silence rather than a bellow, but through an unbreakable oath. The statue was simple, gigantic. It presented him not as a frightening commander but as a man in the prime of his power, sitting, a helm at an angle under one arm, his face not cruel but very piercing. And his eyes, shards of obsidian, shone with a radiance that consumed the very light of the lab and reflected back only an impossible depth.