Plural Shaman Novels & Stories

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.

I stop the grieving act and eye her with my brow raised, "What option?" "We're going to see a shaman," I choke on my saliva at the mention. What! She's kidding, right? Not another creature with spiritual connection towards nature! "I'm not going. Tell me, what's the difference between a witch and a shaman? I mean do you think she'll like to conspire with us against her kind?" " You can't conclude on that. The relationship between shamans and witches is largely unknown and we don't want to risk this. Except you're ready to loose the father of your child and your first mate?" Definitely not!

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.

Palaces 1712 South of the Houses of the first generation of Roman soldiers. The dragon shamans' clan had formed in less than three months. According to ancient law, dragons and shamans performed a satanic ritual and joined together, and so the dragon shamans were born, and now they will have to be united under a leader in which two women fight each other until one dies. Both were in the purest form of the dragon shaman - an ordinary woman's body except for the green and scaly colour, claw-like nails, narrowed snake eyes and the long hair at her waist.

The kind that made your chest tight. “This better not be another waste of time,” I said, folding my arms even though my fingers felt slightly cold against my arm. “you are the fourth shaman I'm seeing this week.” I uttered, adjusting my cloak. The shaman did not respond immediately. He reached out and brought out a lighter. He ignited five candles and placed them on the pentagon before standing up straight.

The not-an-ordinary-wolf part, I believed, but saying she wasn't like us, was wrong. The Shaman claimed she was closer to the goddess, but we knew that only Spirit Wolves were that way, and Sam did not have metallic coloured fur to classify her as a Spirit Wolf. Was she a crossbreed? The shaman said spirit wolves don't crossbreed, so it left us with a huge dilemma.

I learned so much about Black Dew and I began to see how marvelous this pack is. A shaman like me has no pack to belong to. We also don't belong to the rogues, but anciently speaking, shamans are gathered in a formation of temples and we call it a tribe. Celtic and Norse also have their own tribes. They are considered strays like rogues, but an eastern witch prominently belongs to the Eastern Tribe. We're like royalties in the witch kingdom. I've lived for two decades and I never associated myself with any pack. Even the Fountain Pack couldn't convince me to be one of their citizens. Alpha Qirak was always persistent about that.

“Listen to me, I can help you. I can help you enter the realm of the spirits peacefully, without pain.” Luther growled, his red crimson soul getting tainted with black again. “Lies…” The Shaman inches closer. Putting a brave face. “I’m not lying. I never lie.” ‘Liar, lies… lies,lies,lies! You’re lying! I don’t want peace, I want Accashia!”

It has been told from generation to generation, but over time the story has become distorted until finally it was forgotten. Centuries ago, in one of the oldest Indian tribes, there lived a powerful and respected shaman. His extraordinary powers of prophecy and foresight were rumoured far across the nine seas. People travelled from kingdoms far and wide to meet the shaman. Powerful warlords and kings from all over the world sought an audience at his house to hear what destiny had in store for them.