He Was Called The Red Priest Novels & Stories

He had to be meticulous. Sam said with uncertainty, “I didn’t see it myself, so I can’t be sure. But I heard that the pen belonged to a priest before the country was founded. I heard this priest was from Mountain Long, and he was proficient in drawing talismans to ward off evil spirits and making elixirs to cure diseases. “During the war, that priest came down the mountain to save people. However, he was arrested because people thought he was a quack. In the end, he died in prison and most of his belongings were destroyed.

he repeated, proud that his voice didn't mirror his fear. The man before him was as tall as Valerik but smaller in build. The hilts of his weapons poked from their scabbards on both sides of his cassock where they hung from the belt wrapped around his waist. The cassock, white as the mist, marked him a priest. And while his presence was domineering, Sethlzaar did not fear it as much as he'd feared Valerik's. Because where the priest's seemed to have been called upon, Valerik's had dominated without command.

Hayley fell to the ground her eyes full of anger as she noticed the fire in the priest’s eyes. She gasped in shock. “You have been changed?” The priest stretched his neck and exhaled. “That would be something if it were true; now wouldn’t it? Don’t ever try to ambush me again.” Hayley picked herself off the ground and dusts off. “Why have you summoned me here, human?” “You know, you’re going to have to stop referring to me as, human. Around here I’m commonly known as, Priest and that’s what I’d like you to call me.”

They rushed toward the puddle and jumped into it. However, they soon howled in agony as their skin and bones melted and became part of that very blood puddle. The blood puddle increased in size quickly, gradually growing into a blood pool. Constantine had also arrived in Seechertown. He stood in the city and frowned, mumbling to himself, "He's hidden?" He walked slowly to a church, then found the priest and showed his identification. Constantine was the Red Archbishop. It was a position of much higher rank than that of a regular priest.

The kind that could make any woman feel something sinful stir deep inside her. But the man speaking wasn’t a mafia boss. He was hot, tall—yes. But he was also a priest. A fucking hot priest. One I lusted for. Obsessed over. The one who made me touch myself at night, desperate and aching in ways I never thought I could. Enzo Romano. A walking sin wrapped in holiness. Long black hair he tied back into a ponytail, piercing gray eyes that looked right into your soul, and features so divine they made you believe God really did have favorites.

The priest looked at the pew; there was no one in sight, the church suddenly holding a deep, eerie silence accentuated by the occasional rumbles of thunders accompanying the rain. "You think he listens?" The question caught the Priest unawares, and turning to see the man now fully facing him, Martin straightened his shoulders. He nodded, "Of course, Son." "Weird," the stranger commented, "Been asking him if a person named Salvatore Caruso strolled in here about a week ago, but nothing." It was the chill in hearing that name from a man he could smell evil from, evil so glaring it was almost a stench, " Lying was never part of the deal; he had left that world when he decided he wanted the prie

“He’s in Sicily already?, he asked rhetorically looking at the man He nodded signaling yes “Interesting ” he muttered. “That transfer was fast. I’ll need to tread carefully.” He straightened. “I sense conspiracy, well, get the cars ready. Prepare the orphan donations. And tell Anna to get ready—she needs prayers from this new priest . Let’s go pay him a visit, he might be expecting us too”, Arnold grinned. “Yes, boss,” the man said, hurrying out. At the Chapel… Carden—now Father Damien Narvick—stood before a mirror, dressed in priestly attire, staring at his reflection.

It was hard to get on the high seas. He whispered a prayer of gratitude to his patron, the Father of Hares, out of habit but stopped partway through and swore. Priest didn't want to admit but seeing behind the cosmic curtain had shaken him to the core. He still wasn't clear on many things but he now knew the Father of Hares was also Tricksy, the toms' God of Chaos. Years of devotion to him. Living only for what the god inspired him to do and give up, not to mention his shame and self-violence when he felt he fell short. All of it had left Priest feeling empty and not sure of his mission.

Although red roses are good for funerals, in my case they wouldn't since it's a joyful color. "We thank you here Father as you let this man go to peace," said the priest and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. There shall be no peace for him but only fire for all the wickedness he has done. Suddenly they started singing which made me feel sick and I couldn't help but put out a gun and rest it on the priest's head. Everyone including Leornado looked at me in shock. "Cut the crap and put this man where he truly belongs" I yelled angrily.

I moved faster through the incoming parishioners, pulse loud in my ears. Then the catechist stepped forward to make the morning announcements. A new priest would be assisting for the time being. The words landed in sequence, each one cutting the hope cleaner than the last. New priest. Not returning priest. Not Father Riven. A different name was read out—foreign to my mouth, useless. The man in the black cassock was invited toward the altar. He turned fully into the light. Wrong face. Wrong age. Wrong eyes. He smiled at the congregation. Cassian almost never smiled."The mask felt slow to rise.”