Past High Priest Jewel Novels & Stories

"A caelo usque ad centrum. A capite ad calcem. A mari usque ad mare. A posse as esse. Ab antiquo. Ab extra. Abhinc. Ad lucem !" The stone moved from its place, and began to levitate a few feet in the air, spinning with lightning speed above the sleeping baby. The High Chancellor once again spoke and recited the ancient words, "Ad lucem! I conjuro te!" An orange light burned bright inside of the jewel, giving off a red powerful glow. Bihadlly wasn't Queen of Zuff, in that moment. She was just Bihadlly, a mother afraid for her baby and family legacy. She had no choice, she kept reciting to herself. She stood a few feet away and watched the small bundle as the Jewel spun and glowed abov her o

"Who did this? Who is daring enough to kill my King! Knights of Alvarez, find the murderer and bring him to me!" Luci, the chosen Priest smiled. His smile was full of happiness and joy, it's as if he succeeded on something. Something that he was waiting for a very long time, something that he always wanted to achieve. The priest was smiling evilly. "It was me your majesty, the chosen priest, the one who recently inherited the Power of Light. It was me, I am the murderer!"

The recognition and realization in her eyes had been unmistakable, the disturbance in her near transparent wisps, unsettled. "They have something of mine," he continued. "Something I would like back." Fionis uncrossed her leg, crossed them in reverse, then leaned forward. "You're the priest that's been causing them so much trouble." It wasn't a question. "I am." "And what of yours have they taken?" Sethlzaar didn't move. "A priestess and a Nun."

From the blackened marrow of the altar, a figure manifested. He did not walk; he Officiated. He was a being of Silver-Starlight and Ivory-Dust, his face a shifting mask of every "Priest" who had ever told a girl that her pain was a sacred duty. He held a Censer made of Human Teeth, its smoke a thick, indigo-gold vapor of Absolute Commitment that held the power to "Fix" any two souls into a permanent, static agony. It was the High Priest of the Loom.

her husband said as he encircled his arms around her waist and in next second they were hugging, passionately. Too say Nayyab was happy with her life would be understatement. She was blessed. She had forgotten and forgiven everything and anyone the moment she realized it was all her fate. She got much luxury than she ever could ask and her husband was a nice and caring man. No she isn't a gold digger but she is thankful for whatever blessings she is receiving for whatever is of her husband is hers as he had said it to her. She remembered that before leaving for their honeymoon his husband called her in their bedroom and gave her a surprise. "Musa I cannot accept it..." she said looking at th

“Alpha Silas.” Her voice is measured, but I remember when it used to shake. Sixteen years ago, before her elevation to High Priestess, Elowyn was sick of remaining the humble subject and unwitting sex slave of the High Priest at the time, and I could tell. She was next in rank in terms of the level of her gifting, but her rank was practically useless. High Priests and Priestesses can live for a millennia, and by the time of his death, it was almost certain that he would have produced an heir who would override her position. So, one night, I approached her, presented a brilliant plan that she could not resist. I offered her partnership. She would not dare break her sacred vow of devotion by

We were the only ones who knew that the man blessing the bread at the head of the table was the same one who had tried to rot our son's soul. "He is coming," Killian whispered, his voice a low vibration beneath the sound of the violins. The High Priest arrived late, draped in robes of white silk that seemed to glow in the candlelight. He carried a silver censer that released thick, sweet clouds of lavender smoke. As he approached the dais, the scent hit me: a cloying, artificial floral note that failed to mask the underlying stench of wet earth and decaying meat. "Your Majesties," the High Priest said, bowing with a grace that felt entirely too practiced. "The pack is blessed to see the fami

I remembered how the High Elders used that God-forsaken jewelry to force out the truth from their subjects, exactly like Wonder Woman's lasso of truth. "However, King Aero doesn't know that I tweaked this bracelet a bit," he confessed. I narrowed my eyes at him. What a fucking sly pest. "When King Aero talked about you and when he showed me the filliyaens, I quickly deduced the facts. There was no question you were Ehnrelil's lost rogue priestess. Your guardian spirits never make a mistake." Effortlessly, he plucked one gem out of the bracelet. If my memory serves me well, those gems were supposed to be a beautiful sapphire blue, now it had turned to a blood red.

An ancient deity of the Wastes that had been trapped beneath the Silver Moon for eons. ​"Lyra!" I tried to rush forward, but a wall of force slammed me back. ​A man stood at the edge of the pit. He wasn't Caleb. He was older, dressed in robes of human skin, his eyes entirely gold. The High Priest of the Wastes. ​"The girl is the final key," the Priest chanted, his voice vibrating through our bones. "With the Seer's eyes, the Master shall see the path to the surface. The Silver Moon shall fall, and the age of the Sun shall end!"

Perhaps he was nervous too. The High Priest stepped forward, his silver robes glimmered beneath the moonlight. High Priest Malachai, the most powerful religious figure in the kingdom. He raised his staff, silence immediately swept across the arena. "Tonight," he announced, his voice carrying effortlessly through the crowd, "we gather beneath the sacred gaze of the Moon Goddess." Cheers erupted. My pulse quickened. "This night marks the union of two fated souls." The cheers grew louder. I glanced toward Kael. He stood motionless, expressionless, cold. A strange chill crawled down my spine. Why wouldn't he look at me?