Greek Mythology Weeper Novels & Stories

Time is a cruel mistress. It uses things and leaves them behind in the sea of what once was. Eidola, (plural for eidolon) fits into this category. The phenomenon comes from a singular area of the world, the ancient city of Troy. Warren doesn’t know it yet, but he is a descendant of the first eidolon wielder, Helen of Troy. Nerea covered her mouth and whispered a prayer. Plume continued to watch the bestial energy as Warren walked out of the circle. “Warren how are you feeling?” Plume shouted.

Professor Damaris also said that every Summoner has a spirit animal who can protect and guide them. The Healing Caste is the sixth caste in the Olympus wherein people like Dr. Foster have the ability to heal and revive someone from death. If not so, others from this caste can create different kinds of potions—good potions to be exact. Professor Damaris didn’t elaborate on it because she said that I’m able to know it soon.

She said the smile on her lips evident. "One faithful journey of the sun god he met a goddess sharing the skies with him. On special occasions they'll met and share pleasantries but then again and again their meetings turned friendship and friendship evolved into love. The goddess who stole his fiery heart was called Jah or as you werewolves know her, the moon goddess. And from that love blossomed a son (Rejah). To avoid their union meeting the ears of the other gods their love had to be broken, for the safety of their child. Jah brought her son to earth, to live his immortal life as one of her followers, as a skin walker..." "Werewolves?" Thanatos the servant of Moirae needed Rejah, a werew

he murmurs. Rolling my eyes I cross my arms leaning back in my chair, “care to share with the class?” He presses his palms together and asks, “son, have you ever heard of the Reapers?” I frown, “No. What is a Reaper?” He leans over, “so when you die, the Reaper is the one who severs your bond from this world that lets you move onto the next. For us back to the Moon Goddess. They are curious beings and only those who have seen traumatic death can see them. I’m sure there is one in our pack right now, waiting for someone to die. They are nearly untraceable and hold no allegiances to anyone but their task. Sever the bond, let the soul move on.”

It will be hard to keep yourself separated from your body. They watched the memory as Gelert’s head popped up in the back of the woman’s mind as she smelled him. Carefully, she stood up and approached the bassinet. “Who sent you?” the woman, Gelert, asked as she placed the child in his bed. The wolf growled but she understood what he said. He was sent by Actis, a jealous god who despised the special treatment that the werewolves received. “You will not get him,” she warned him as she shifted.

Slowly, I felt his pheromones cease fluctuating, and his breathing smooth. He then turned to look at me with a bit of guilt in his eyes. "Nadia, as you know, your grandpa and I were like brothers. And he once saved my life." He paused. "Though he's not around anymore, I still think about him a lot." "He used to worry about you so much. So after he was gone, I felt it was my responsibility to take care of you. If I knew Lucian was such an ungrateful man, I would never ask you to be his mate! The Moon Goddess blessed our two packs with a special link, so I thought you two were somehow meant for each other." His voice was a little shaky.

Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her skin, cold as ice. By the third day her legs had gone numb. Not in pain, simply without feeling. She tried to stand, and they would not obey her, two wooden posts that buckled and dropped her into the foul water. Her face went under, she choked, and she coughed for a long time. No one came. Zeus never came, not once. He was busy. He was busy celebrating with Hera the new divine rank her nephew had been granted. The boy who killed me had been raised, in death, to God of Courage, his statue set at the very gate of Olympus.

It was our second anniversary, a time when things were simpler. — From what I read, the legend is about a king of Ancient Greece, Lycaon, who always killed those who stayed in his palace... one night, Zeus disguised himself as an old man, and asked the king for shelter, who somehow discovered that he was Zeus, so as a form of blasphemy and mockery, he served human flesh to the God of Olympus, who cursed him to become a monster, a wolf.

I watched as the guy left and the one thing that keep sticking in my mind that he seemed to be a strange guy but I’m not sure why that is. “What’s wrong baby girl?” “Who is that guy?” “That’s Dionysus, and he’s the god of wine and pleasure. He also the son of Zeus. Why don’t you go pick out a ring that you like to get.”

They say tears are silent prayers, unspoken words for God to listen to, but they don’t tell you that tears burn you when your wishes don’t come true. Azazel saw Athena sobbing; her tears affected him more than he accepted. He knelt next to her, taking her into a hug. The girl didn’t protest. She let him hug her. She sobbed and sobbed until there was no breath in her lungs, her lungs seared, and her chest tightened. The dress felt impossibly tight on her body.