Goddess Fantasy Art Novels & Stories

Every part of his body was screaming from the heat. You can't blame him,his woman was the true definition of a fairy. She had the best sculpted oval shaped face. Her eyebrows resembled butterfly wings. Her lips are plump and pink. Her chestnut hair cascaded down to her waist like water Waves. To say she was beautiful was quite the understatement. She was what we call a perfect piece of art. Something that was crafted with the best of materials,with utmost carefulness and plenty of time. She had everything that a Man desired in a lady. A perfect coca-cola bottle body shape,well proportioned hips Without an ounce of extra fat. Her burst was Just perfect for his large hands. It's like she was M

I ordered Ariel , who shot me a shocked gaze when I had finished. "What? Why? I can't go about seducing people like a whore. That's not me!" She frowned as she reluctantly refused. "Erbort is really good looking Ariel." I tried to convince her. "He is also very close to the Goddess of War. Don't you like that?" "Hmmm!...that sounds good then. I love good looking men and would also like to meet the Goddess of War." Ariel sounded impressed. She changed her mind and agreed to do my orders.

A long time ago, before the packs dominated the land and before the first war split the clans, it was said the Moon herself descended to the world not as a moon in the sky, but as a woman. She walked amongst men and wolves, in flesh and blood, her beauty so true, so wild and real, that people could not gaze upon her without a shiver going through their very soul. It wasn’t just her face it was the way she moved, that sweet voice of hers and that pain in her eyes. She was not meant to be in this world and yet she wanted to be in this world.

That was the mantra of the average palace worker, especially under this Emperor Vasil: Don’t ask questions, don’t get killed. “What should we do? Everything looks so exciting,” Ursa exclaimed, looking at the bustling street market full of life. It seemed as though everyone was out on the town today. Cecily and Ursa passed by many vendors, stopping by an elderly woman selling tapestries depicting scenes from the Texts of Himalia, the Goddess of Writing and the daughter of the planet’s patron God Hypnotite. Legend says that the Goddess wanted to gift mortals more knowledge, and thus she created the Texts to tell the story to explain everything.

She could not have been communicating with me through my thoughts and my mind. And if she was indeed Ezza, what was the sorcery that she has tried to put me on? How come I was hearing her voice inside my head? How was it possible that she was here, and she knows me, and basically said that "I am her and she is me"? However, I was guessing that the woman had noticed the confused look on my face because she answered my unfinished question and did something unpredictable and disquieting. "No, dear, I am not her, but I am a very close one—" the woman then slowly sank to her knees with her fisted left arm over her right chest, as she bows her head and she said, "we've been waiting for you for so

"Look, I gave angels free will as a foil to the puppet demons. What she chose to do is just that, her choice. You know I'll refuse to interfere. It's about time someone defied you, anyway." "You will interfere! She is to live the life I wrote for her." Fatia twirled one of his pens on his finger. His blue claws tapped the book. Kali looked to it. That book had infinite pages and the 7 pens he held each represented a realm. Heaven, Earth, Hell, Purgatory, the Nether-realm, Ethereal, and Kinata. Like most other gods he had given up on the tragedy that Earth had become. Fatia raised an impatient eyebrow. "Do I get some sort of acknowledgement?" Kali was silent and wouldn't even look at him. He

He asked Tres about it and he said that she was Demeter—the goddess of food, basically. James looked up and saw that once again, the high ceiling was painted with extreme attention to detail. This time however, instead of Zeus or Poseidon, it was of fields of wheat, corn, fruit trees, and cattle grazing in prairies. There were numerous beautiful, petite-framed women dancing in the fields and laying offerings at the feet of a seated Demeter. Suddenly, Tres broke into his concentration. “I think my popularity points just went up a few notches.” “What? Why do you say that?” asked James.

Flora grumbled, but I was too busy reading that diary to pay attention. “The connection between the Goddess and a Priestess happens not only through magic, but mainly through the gifts given by the Goddess to her Priestesses.” I read softly “My beloved was graced with the gift of song. Her chants help her cross the passage between the world of mortals and the domains of the Goddess. She tells me that others use their writing, their connection with nature, their dreams… Dreams!” I gasped, more attentive than ever “I do that! I mean, I don’t really know how to control it, but… There was a time when I managed to have a vision while I was awake.”

Flying buttresses and spires, finely detailed gilded molding, large rectangular mirrors framed in obsidian. It is a work of art, and it was all because of me. Anyone who was of worth was at my party, lavishing me with the praise I so richly deserved, was born to receive. Are we the nobility, not the divine rulers of the rest of the wolves? The omegas that have forgotten themselves? Become domesticated in their subservience to the Goddesses? The Great Deserter, O Fenrirwulf, had understood how the Gods feared us. Shackled us.

She looked around to see Adira standing with a painting in her hand, Valerie moved closer and took a look at the portrait to see her mother almost naked and smiling as the artist drew. “Who drew this?” She asked with her eyes almost popping out of her skull. “I did,” Adira answered with a smile, “she’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” She asked as she brushed her finger on the painting. “She is.” Valerie smiled and Adira nodded. “I’m sorry—“ “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault and whatever happens happened because the goddess wanted it to, you shouldn’t be sorry about that.” Adira smiled as she put the picture away.