Novel & Cerita Hierophant Green Requiem

Every ceremony needs an altar and Zlo lacked the imagination for anything else. The marble suddenly began to roil and bubble, viscous as blood. Its hidden treasures were revealed and the marble subsided, quiet and cold once more. On the altar lay the seedling sprouting from its small pocket of soil, the gold harmonicus, a familiar-looking switchblade and a still, four-legged form with splayed wings. “Fierce!” Ilyria cried out, unable to stop herself. She clamped her hand over her mouth as she tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

“As you instructed, my lord… the Horn of Sevrin. Unblemished. Bound in celestial blood.” He held out the relic, an artifact humming with sacred energy. Nihareth smiled, his darkened arm twitching with pleasure beneath his sleeve. The void whispered, pleased. “Place it in the flame,” Nihareth ordered, voice like silk wrapped around a blade. The god hesitated. “But… it will destroy its sanctity.” “Exactly.” His smile widened. “It will be reborn. Like you. Like me.” Another stepped forward—this one with six eyes and hands carved of marble. “The Crown of Irith. It still sings prayers when you hold it.”

I wonder what kind of torture I can perform on this guy? "Rise! And hear my call, my dear darling... Hydriam Herba!" a dark green magic circle appeared under my feet. As a five feet tall pitcher-like plant appeared before me. Hydriam is the name I've given to this plant. The plant is hovering above the ground with its tentacle-like vines moving back and forth. "What kind of creature is that?" I can hear the nervousness in his tone, as his eyes shine in fear. I only summoned my beloved pet and you are already shaking in fear? Man... what more if I start doing experiments on you?

The carvings had changed since their last visit—what once were whispers etched in runes were now open mouths, screaming silently. Cassian flinched. “They’re… hungrier.” Seraphina laid out the ritual components: four relics, harvested at great cost—bone from the First Flame, ashes from a dying star, blood of a true heir, and a feather from the wing of the Shadow Seraph. Each was placed at a point around the mural, forming a diamond. Vulture stood watch, arms folded, scowling at every tremble in the stone. “If this thing even blinks, I’m shooting it.”

The priest’s voice rose and fell as he recited the prayers. "Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei." "Grant her eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her." The priest beside him interpreted. Rafael stood on my left. Lucia on my right. Their presence was the only thing keeping me upright. My father stood across the grave, alone. His face was carved from stone, but his hands — his hands trembled at his sides. The priest lifted a small brass thurible, swinging it gently. The smoke of frankincense curled upward, disappearing into the pale morning sky.

Lysander said, his voice dropping to a dead, frozen silence that made the air inside the chamber feel suddenly heavier than the mountain above them. ​Seraphina swallowed hard, her sapphire-silver eyes drifting back to the altar. The wind had stopped. The pages had finished turning, settling on a heavy, stone-backed sheet at the absolute end of the ancient grimoires. ​The page contained a massive, perfectly preserved oil portrait painted by the first priests of the unwritten era, framed in pure, unblemished gold.

The stones wove together into a cairn that resonated softly with magic, fragile yet unwavering in its strength. At the base of this tribute, Autumn laid thoughtful offerings. She scattered polished mirror coins, their surfaces gleaming like captured starlight, designed to catch the wandering fragments of Luma’s essence. Small heaps of grave salt were placed meticulously to anchor a sense of peace and calm. Wisps of lavender smoke curled upward into the velvety night sky, carrying with it a soothing aroma, a gentle balm against their sorrow. And at the heart of the altar, cradled tenderly in her palm like a fragile heartbeat, lay a flickering whisper of soul-fire, pulsing with a warm glow.

The priestess waited for him to recover, idly picking her nails, glancing at him once he stood, “Hear my words detok, for they come straight from the lips of the winter father” she started as the army took and knee, same with detok, “You detok, heir to both the winter and summer thrones has fallen short in the eyes of the rulers of both courts, particularly in my eyes for the thoughts of herandra matters little to me, you will have one chance to absolve yourself of this shame you have soiled me with. You will travel alone to the gates of artemon, there you will slay the prince and present his head to me as an act of apology, then and only then will I consider you my heir once again.”

“I won’t force you, and I know neither will Izzy. But Shyne, you need to let go for good. Now, tell us the truth. I know you were about to tell us something before these letters were brought up.” “Hold that thought guys”, Izzy interrupted when I was about to speak. “I just finished checking the Latin words for one of those creepy letters he gave you”, I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw Izzy’s face pale on the phone’s screen. “One of them says ‘DEATH CAN’T SEPARATE THE SOULS OF THE MATES’, and then another one says ‘TOGETHER ABOVE, TOGETHER BELOW’. This is so messed up sis! I mean, what’s with this guy?” I was shaking while listening to the words that Izzy translated.

She began to cast a spell, a spell that sharpened her arrow. "In the name of the Goddess of Life, spirits living in this forest, heed my command, help me sharpen my arrow to pierce the heart of my enemy, and to protect the heart of our Goddess." A greenish energy surrounded the maiden's arrow. This greenish energy sharpened the maiden's arrow, and made it a hundred times stronger, lighter, and more efficient. "Any last word puny Human?" Luci did not show fear, he laughed at the maiden's threat.