Holy Idol Romane & Geschichten

“Do not starve for clandestine or tainted perceptions. They are derived from pure violence to provide you eternal solace. Believe in my command and Sacred Times.” Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Tristan finished the verse, explaining why the relics were supposed to be trapped. They are evil and must not come to life. Hizerl is the proof of it. Why should one never try to own them is clear now. “What… are you guys?” Huzefa asked at their smooth quotation, not only in terms of power but by knowledge too. “I doubt you have heard the name Tademono.” Tabit shrugged, doubting they would know.

She immediately covered her lips with her palm after saying that. Litiana giggled as trying to win Felen’s heart. “Of course. I should be the one asking, are you a human? Because somehow you look like a Holy Maiden.” “Holy Maiden?” “That’s right, Holy Maiden — the mortal enemy of us ... the demons.” A chill ran down Felen’s spine. At a glance, she saw a vile gleam flashing across Litiana’s pupils. However, it disappeared in a blink of an eye. Back to normal with a dazzling soft glow.

’ Anjana’s face turned pale. ‘Don’t worry; I am saying that as he is the Shiva’s gift. He is part of Shiva. And as Shiva he will also destroy the phoney arrogance of others.’ ‘Oh! Then what’s your suggestion?’ ‘HANUMAN – Destroyer of Phoney Arrogance.’ *****

A delicate carving was made depicting ancient stories on every wall. When we entered, an idol of a goddess sitting on the full moon captivated my heart. She was holding herbs in one hand and a vessel of elixir in the other. A soul melting smile was lingering on her lips. We kneeled down in front of her, and the priest sprinkled some water over our heads. “Rowan, can I see around? I have never been here before.” I disturbed his talk with the head priest. He nodded and returned to his important chat. Waylen handled security and instructed them about something.

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.

"I hold the answer to that, my Aphrodite. I can bless you with what your heart truly desires. I can bless you with immortality." I pulled away from him, looking at him as though he were crazed, "is it the pressure of the wedding, Master Abigor? Has it gotten to your head?" I said with both concern and agitation, "you sound crazed." He was silent, his eyes trailing over my body, before his hand took my own into his and he held it with a confident grip as he began to stride casually and I walked alongside him, "a lot exists in this world that many know nothing about, my Aphrodite. That, you most certainly can be assured of."

Nadia hissed, her teeth bared at Dain and I though it wasn’t us she spoke to. “My sister lost her identity along with her humanity when she chose to follow that thing.” Antonio sniffed, staring down at Nadia with pure contempt on his face. There were ghosts in his dark eyes, aching and clawing to free themselves, but he held strong. Nadia let out a laugh that sounded more like an unhinged cackle. “That thing is our God—our master. You’ve seen firsthand how giving it is, how it rewards its followers with incredible power. Would your Black Bull do the same, Antonio Thatcher?” She snarled, her honeyed voice morphing into something animalistic as she uttered his full name.

A circled note in the corner caught his eye: “BRASS = best conduit for demonic containment.” Gabe examined the idol’s halves. They were severely corroded, brittle, incomplete. Useless. But he knew what to do. He turned to his shelves—metal, tools, sculptures. One in particular stood out: a hexagonal world map he’d made with Joanne. He smiled. Then he pulled out a large sheet of brass. Hours passed. Gabe worked steadily, methodically—melting, shaping, reforging. The garage glowed with sparks and sweat. Slowly, the idol was reborn. Polished and whole.

She was the only person I couldn't get a reaction from. “She hates me,” I said, and Dad raised an eyebrow. “Can you blame her?” The question hit harder than I expected, and I looked away. “Wait…” I said, remembering something. Elizabeth would never agree to this, I am sure. “Does she even know about this?” “She does, and she would rather spend a lifetime with the devil,” Dad lips curved up slightly. “See? The feeling is mutual,” “She still agreed.” He said, and my amusement faded.