Plural Shaman Novels & Stories

Vienna's POV: The howls of the pack still echoed in the air as the shaman stepped forward once more, raising her staff high. The wooden shaft was adorned with decorative carvings, glowing faintly under the flickering lanterns. “The bond is forged!” She declared, “Three souls have become one. Their fates are bound, their spirits entwined. From this night forth, let none challenge what the Moon Goddess has decreed!” She paused for a moment, before she continued her sentence;

Books were stacked high, and thick oak tables held the tools of a shaman: scrolls of paper, bronze bowls, and incense. Nara moved easily through the crowded space. She helped run her halmeoni’s shaman shop and knew where everything was located in the nonsensical clutter. She was a shaman who’d received the calling through blood instead of spiritual possession. Shamanism was business and tradition in her family. As they walked past a large bookcase, Nara let her fingers trail over a framed photo, the only thing clean of dust on the crowded shelf. A man and woman smiled at the camera, a small infant cradled between them: Nara’s parents.

The four couples and Panya gathered closer to the shaman. “Only the woman is needed,” he signaled the men to stand aside. The shaman was dressed in full shaman attire with a snow-owl feathered war bonnet on his head, mixed some herbs in front of them, igniting one batch, setting it on fire, and leaving the other, he used the smoke from the batch from the fire and swirled it around the clean batch all while hymning some words in a language that only he understood.

“She means no harm.” George hesitated but eventually let his hand fall away from the weapon, his body relaxing just a fraction. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “You must be the shaman,” he said, attempting to sound confident. Then, leaning closer to me, he whispered, “I thought shamans were supposed to be men?” I shook my head, smiling slightly. “No, they can be women. In fact, they’re mostly female.” He gave a soft, surprised “Oh,” as his gaze returned to the mysterious figure before us.

I said, trying to change the subject, "tell me more about your life as a Shaman. What kind of things do you do?" Rufus's smile softened, a hint of seriousness returning to his eyes. "Being a Shaman is a lot of responsibility," he began, settling into the chair opposite me. "It's about being a healer, a guide, a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds. We use natural elements, rituals, and ancient knowledge to help people find balance and healing." He spoke with passion, his voice animated as he described the various herbs he collected, the healing ceremonies he performed, and the deep connection he felt with the natural world.

It was the symbol of peace and unity, despite the uniqueness that each territory and system lived. It was a ceremony for everybody as it included two occasions: one, the coming of the Anointed Shaman, the person who could see the future of the world, including each pack’s problems and how the leaders could solve them. The usual problems they might encounter were famine, drought, or natural disasters. The shaman had the power to see these things and warn the leaders about them.

"That's bullsh*t, Oakley! You can reject her! Let's go to the shaman, then! Let's cut that f*cking mate bond." A Shaman is someone who can communicate with the deads, goddesses, spirits, and somehow related in magic. They can cut the mate bond by performing some rituals and prayers to the moon goddess. "I can't do that," he mumbled. "Why? Is it because you already love her?!" the queen yelled. He shook his head. "If we do that and we decided to be together, we are making a great mistake. The moon goddess will punish and curse us. Then, the whole wolves will be our enemies."

Their quest took them to far-flung corners of the world, from remote archaeological sites to sacred temples steeped in mysticism. In a small village nestled in the heart of the A****n rainforest, they sought the guidance of a wise shaman known for his connection to the spirit realm. The shaman, with weathered skin and deep, knowing eyes, welcomed them into his humble dwelling. Surrounding them were artifacts, talismans, and symbols that spoke of a rich spiritual heritage. Amelia and Ethan sat before the shaman, their hearts pounding with anticipation. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls as the shaman began to chant ancient incantations. His voice reverberated through

The clock of my life was already counting down. “Are you sure she's not going to die?" Dante asked, using his hand to wipe the blood on my forehead as I kept my eyes shut, pretending to be unconscious so as to buy myself sometime or to delay their plan. “She will definitely be fine,” the Shaman said, waving her hand dismissively. “The attack will only knock her out until we are able to get the items for the ritual together.” She said this in a voice that betrayed compassion and pity for humanity, walking towards Dante and pulling him away from my side. Shamanism is a religion that has to do with the worship of the earth, instead of the Moon goddess.

King Sachihero was sitting along with his queen, and the Oracle Shrushaw. The Oracles were Sorcerers who were appointed by most Kingdoms. They were learned in magic, mysterious art, and used to help and advice the Kings regarding mystical issues. The oracle for Shambala was a beautiful woman called Shrushaw. No one knew how old she was. She always appeared as a sultry 25-30-year-old. Her heavy-lidded eyes could entice any man however most were afraid of her and avoided offending her. As the chief Oracle of Shambala currently, she was pouring over the profiles of various suitors who had approached to win Princess Revati's hand.