Drops Of God Novels & Stories

POV EMMA BELLE The chamber was a perfect sphere of obsidian so polished it looked like a hole in the universe. In the center, suspended in a zero-gravity void, was a single globule of liquid indigo light—the First Drop. It was the size of a human heart, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic glow that coincided with the beat of the planet’s core. It wasn't just magic; it was the Source-Code of every shifter, every spire, and every blade of golden grass in the North.

I whisper. "You are no god. Just a self-obsessed, obnoxious, unworthy, mortal man who called himself a god,” He speaks and it doesn’t take me long to realize that he is repeating my words from that night. There are these unknown guilt and pain in his eyes. Words won’t be able to capture them. “Guess you were right,” He adds. My chest weights down with my own words coming out of his mouth. “I... -”

Even children had better attention span than this one. “Relax! You are not as special as you consider yourself to be. I didn’t exactly target you that day. I had accidentally discovered that one of the human drugs had an effect on Gods and laced it with a weakening spell to see if I could destroy the immortality of Gods. I had ordered my minions to use it on the first God to visit the Earth, and you just happened to be the first one to cross their paths,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

With Paramount ease, I lifted my self above ground levels, walked over to the God and made him watch as I perhaps, ended him. I pushed his head to his back side and watched the wound so eagerly, I took my hand deep unto his back slowly. His iris lingering over his white eyes as a tear rolled down from it. I felt a bone that seemed to be his spine and I ripped it out of his back. Suddenly, the environmental contrast and liveliness dropped as soon as I turned off the spark. The body of the god dropped to the floors and I descended towards Steven. "I just need one honest answer from you, who is Hilda to you?" My question rose awe in his face as well as confusion before the ...

"This is your last day ugly animal, you self conceited Animal! You should better run or else I'll skin you off. Don't blame me for making me this angry. In this century no one would ever disrespect this God!" A God made his way to that annoying animal, Luis Park! And this God is Dripping with Acids! The stones melt! It means that this God is something. Unbelievable and Powerful! This God is coming! Nobody! No one! That God is coming! .... "This place is too dark for a handsome like me." Then he felt a cold wind. "Growled~" His stomach growled. 'So scary!' He thought as his pants were pissed off. But it wasn't just a cold!

With tears in my eyes, I sink down as I think to myself, I've freed the God of Evil I've let everyone down, how can I save Davin if I cannot save myself, I finally fall into an exhausted sleep. On the third day or I least, I think it's the third day I open my eyes looking around I see nothing but darkness, swinging my legs from the platform I walk around, only this time I know there is no escape. I awakened the God, and now I take his place all I can do is pray my family will somehow survive this. I try my hardest to send positive thoughts to Davin as Feel he's going to need them I can still sense him, I can sense his fear, and it's not fear from others I can sense his fear from himself.

Dionysus closed his eyes, accepting the end of him. CRASH. The sounds of glass breaking rang in his head. The wine god felt the unbearable pressure fade away. His frail body falls to the ground with a thud. Shards of glass stung his cheek, his chest, his hands, and his knees and he winced. He took a sharp intake of breath as the world remade itself.

In sleep, he looked so much like the toddler I had raised in that tiny, sun-drenched apartment—innocent, soft, and entirely human. I sat up, my movements ghost-quiet. My first task of the day was the most dangerous. I reached for my bag on the nightstand, my fingers trembling as I pulled out the small, unmarked vial. The **Amber Drops**. I looked at the golden liquid inside, a substance that was both our salvation and our death sentence. If Silas ever caught me administering these, the fragile “forgiveness” he was begging for would turn into a different kind of fire.

began to weep. From the cracks in the seabed, a thick, luminescent fluid began to ooze—the raw, unrefined essence of the Void. It was the "Weeping Source," the primordial soup from which the High Council had brewed their gods. And the Violet God was drinking it in, his form expanding, shifting, his skin turning into a translucent, silver-violet membrane that showed the forty-one souls of my sisters screaming inside him. "Dante!" I screamed, the sound echoing through the psychic link until it felt like my skull would shatter.

She fixes it, her hands careful, almost too careful, like she's afraid even small movements could make things worse. Then they start. At first, I don't understand what I'm looking at. I just stand there, watching, trying not to get in the way. My hands feel useless at my sides. Then the magic begins to show. It starts slow. Subtle. Then I see it. Black droplets rise from Damian's wound. Not red. Not like blood. Darker. Thicker. Wrong. They lift into the air as if something invisible is pulling them out. More follow. Then more.