Good Omens Art Novels & Stories

I was right in the middle of the entire scene. "If anyone has a problem with me taking this young lady, speak up now!" I exclaimed, after which I handed the lady over to Red to hold her. I then drew out my fangs and claws. My rogues got the message and did the same. Our eyes turned blood red and the werewolves, on seeing that, began to fall back. I could smell their fear. It made me feel even stronger.

"For my fated omega." He tears the parchment away, his breath hitching as he reads the title embossed in silver leaf: The Legacy of Our Moonmark. The entire hide binding is hand-painted, depicting a raw, dominant image of Jone and Michael locking jaws during their sacred binding ritual under the blood moon. The artistic style is unmistakable, executed by the Silvermoon Muse, an anonymous rogue painter whose street murals across the Silvermoon Capital Jone had defended for winters.

Kieran said, handing over a very huge book to me. “Every one?” “Every single one,” Kieran nodded. “The ones she commissioned humans to fight, the ones she was present at, yeah, everyone.” “I have a lot of work to do then,” I muttered, flipping through the heavy pages. The material used to make them was different because it was way better than ordinary paper. It had the weight of gold and the thickness of steel. “If you ever want to come here, all you just have to do is touch one of the spots I did, the rest will come to you,” Kieran said, looking to the side, giving a chance for the rays of light to hit his pretty red eyes.

I silently watched her do all she did, expecting a rewarding response. After a while, she shook her head. “I just searched through the pack’s archive of terrestrial and supernatural symbols and logos, but there were none looking like this.” I huffed, my shoulders dropping. “A dead end again.” My eyes brightened instantly as an idea crossed my mind. “Is there a chance that the logo isn’t just related to Woodhound? Perhaps, it’s something that has to do with the supernatural world as a whole…witches, Lycans and warlocks included?”

“Game or not, the hunter or the hunted, I will take this art and find out everything, starting from the Tarots.” To the wind that brought its gentleness and delivers the melody that makes and breaks everything of the chess pieces worlds into both hell and heaven, a smile draws into the bright light of the full moon, as it's neon purple colored eyes sparks with the stance and form of a child that’s claim is someone of the sole and first God. "You made this happened, do you?”

This might mean nothing to others, but those of lycanthrope blood know that the Omega symbol for the Greek God Ares implies war. “What the fuck?! Who is declaring war on the Five?” I exclaim with a hammering heart and wide eyes as I turn to Kai, but he simply crosses his arms and points to the ceiling. When I look up, I see what he means, and instead of wondering how the fuck they came into this club and killed a Volkov pup to do all this, I feel my entire body light up with fury. A skull adorned with a crown of daggers and eight spears encircling it, and next to it was a maiden skull with a crown of roses holding a sword in a skeletal hand.

Such is it—to be an Omega in a pack that valued strength above all. Alpha, Beta and Omega, just like the Moon Goddess intended, no matter how cruel it is. To go against her is to tempt the beast and no one comes back from that. Dorian was told to fight Garron and give it his all—a death sentence surely for the Omega, any Omega. There was no cheer this time, no applause or calls for Garron's death.

“I know it sounds batshit insane. Like the caller’s hallucinating or screwing with me. But he knew things—details no one should. And if there’s even a chance…” Lysander held up a hand, stopping me. “It doesn’t sound insane. Not entirely.” I blinked, caught off guard. “What?” He pushed off the table, walking to a bookshelf in the corner crammed with art books, sketchpads, and a few dusty tomes that looked older than the school. He pulled one out—a thick, leather-bound volume with faded gold lettering: “Mythos and Metaphor: Ancient Lore in Modern Art.” He flipped through it, landing on a page with illustrations of snarling wolves under full moons, runes etched around the borders.

My mind was running faster than my awareness could keep up, as thoughts and questions now flew around inside my head like fireworks. I remembered what I had read just on the cover of the box: "Others rise and fall, but as Omegas we fall then rise. Remember you'll die, but you'll die a million times" I wondered if there were any correlations? But I wondered more, what the hell were all these things doing in Colin's house? The same for the walls of drawings? And drawings of only the Omega mark? Now this eerie box with a strange letter in front, and filled with maps marked out in red and signed in a crescent?

The whole idea seemed futile but no other way than to make themselves appear prepared. On their way, Allie spotted a large painting of a Hellhound standing in the middle of a misty, darkened forest, its eyes glowing and taking the attention away from everything else that had been expertly drawn on the canvas. The omega tilted her head at the artwork, admiring it for a while.