Holy Idol Novels & Stories

I faced forward and kept moving. The path didn’t end so much as it just… stopped. One moment we were walking, the next we stood before a sheer cliff of dark, wet stone. And carved into it, spanning from the bone-floor to the shadowed heights above, was an idol. My breath hitched. It had two heads, set side-by-side on a grotesque, bulbous body. From that body sprouted a forest of limbs—dozens of them, maybe hundreds, each one a twisted, jointless leg that seemed to writhe even in stillness. The faces were the worst. Not human, not animal. They wore identical, wide-mouthed grins, all sharp edges and malevolent joy.

"Iron does not call, Anchor. Iron is dead. It only speaks when a spark ignites the powder." "You are wrong," I said gently. "Come inside." We led the system-builder down the spiraling stone stairs. As we descended, I watched Cord’s posture stiffen. He hated this place. He hated the forty Iron Voices he had forged. He had spent the last ten years making plows and horseshoes, desperately trying to atone for the horrific perfection of the ballistics engine he had designed to slaughter the human armada. We reached the heavy lead doors. They were propped wide open.

She doesn’t understand how much that feeds me. The priest drones about love, faith, eternal bonds. I hear none of it. I only watch Eve, soaking in the fury radiating from her. She has no smile for me, no softness. And yet she is magnificent. When prompted, I answer without hesitation. “I will.” My voice cuts through the cathedral like glass. The vows continue. The priest intones the lines I insisted on, relics of an older time. To love, honor, and obey. Not cherish. Cherish is for weak men. Obey is for me.

"It is for life." I focused on the stained altar. I poured the energy into it, not to destroy, but to cleanse. The dark, ancient stains of blood and sacrifice began to glow, then lighten, then vanish entirely, until the stone was pure, pristine white, radiating a soft, peaceful light. The display of pure, creation-based power was more terrifying to them than any attack. The cultists who were on their knees now prostrated themselves fully. Even some of the advancing zealots faltered, their conviction shaken by the sacred sight.

the holy woman says. Estrella turns to look out over the temple. Her gaze catches on me for a moment then sweeps on. “I give myself to the Goddess, and I give myself to you, Sundrop Gem.” She curtsies deeply. “With an open heart and a stubborn mind.” A small chuckle ripples through the crowd. My chest aches. She’s going to be incredible. “Now, let us honor the Goddess and our Luna with a celebration!” the holy woman declares. The whole pack turns and floods out the door Baz and I came through. He nudges me as we are forced out with the tide.

He knew it was a statue of Lord Ganesha (The destroyer of obstacles), one of the prominent Indian Gods of Hindu Mythology. Christian put the idol of Lord Ganesha inside his pocket and carefully picked up Mishka in his arms. He walked back to his room and laid her down on the bed gently when he found one of the shirt’s buttons stuck in his pendent. Staring at her face, Christian tore his button as he didn’t want to disturb her. He covered her with a comforter and retrieved the idol from his pocket, walking to the wooden wall mounted stand.

He possessed a wealth of knowledge and insight. Aside from the nickname "The Prodigal Son," he often referred to himself as Malik, also known as the Oracle. This nickname highlighted his ability to provide valuable and often prophetic information to those who sought his services, and he was the most useful to me as he was the one who told me that Deirdre would return to me. I believed him because he was never one to lie. "Okay, now everyone is here," Jackson said, his tone turning serious as if he hadn't been teasing Lucia a few moments ago.

When I looked at him, his eyes were definitely crossed. What a ray of sunshine... Aden eventually came to the conclusion that the stone he believed to be a diamond was actually just a regular glass marble. Only at that moment was that object shiny. It has been glowing like a street light in the mist for the past few years, and this trend has only recently begun. Some work came to him despite the fact that he led a sloppy lifestyle despite having a pretty outward appearance.

I’m certain it’s scarier when you can actually see her eyes, usually sapphire-eyed, staring right into the depth of your soul. I assume that this is not how they usually keep her. There are no flowers or wick-lamps beneath her feet. No costly clothes folded about her to account for. So this is how they mourn in Caelondor. Not in Mistral Hollow, though. Whenever any member of the pack passes away, we make sure the idol of the Goddess is more magnificent than ever. Immersed in jewels and flowers, with the most delicious food laid in front of her—all so she can welcome the dead with open arms.