Novel & Cerita Reverence Sentences

His presence was both a comfort and a beacon of ancient wisdom-an unyielding pillar amidst the encroaching darkness. "Your counsel has been the spark that lights our path, Elder," I said, halting before him with a bow of deep respect. "I am eternally grateful for your willingness to share these secrets. Rest assured, they will be the foundation upon which we build our defense-and our offense."

One night, long after Ava had left and the world outside had settled into its usual hum, Alexander pulled me into our bedroom, his eyes burning with something deeper than lust or gratitude. Reverence. He guided me to the bed slowly, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been my strength so many times.” I shook my head, breathless. “We’ve been each other’s.” His hands cupped my face. “But I never told you enough how much I admire your resilience.” My throat tightened as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “You see me,” I whispered. “I always have,” he said softly. “But now I finally see all of you.”

"Elementary School Building, Wing 5. April 17th, 2015. Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil. For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours now and for ever. Amen." He stopped the recorder and moved to the end of the all. With a camera in hand, he snapped a picture of the empty corridor.

Not when the ache in my chest had cracked open just wide enough to let this in. Then he kissed me. Not with fire. Not with hunger. With reverence. His lips touched mine like a prayer, like he was sealing something sacred. It wasn’t claiming—it was reminding. That I mattered. That I was here. That I was still his, even if I hadn’t said the words aloud. It was soft and slow, careful and aching. Like he thought if he held me gently enough, I wouldn’t fracture again. I heard the faint scrape of boots behind us.

I’d never heard anyone speak Ashgenrian so fluently. The necromancer’s pronunciation was marvelous. Each word was like music. Each letter was a flowing stream echoing in my breast, either with the murmuring of a wild beast or the thunder of a hungry abyss. I tried to repeat every expression with manic accuracy. I listened attentively to Reive’s strong voice and channeled it through myself. And I pronounced the invocation putting everything I had into it. I really didn’t want Reive to think I was a loser. A weakling, which in fact I was, but he was the only one who believed that I wasn’t. And that I was capable.

Even if he was in his seventies, there was an invincible air around him. “Your Highness, the Reverend.” “Your Highness, the Reverend.” “Your Highness, the Reverend.” Auster and the rest of the guardians rushed forward, disregarding the injuries on their bodies and kneeled in front of the man. So this man was the Reverend, leader of the Sacred Association! “A bunch of morons!” The Reverend was disappointed at the guardians’ performance. As guardians of the Sacred Association, how could they not crack the defense with all seven of them going at it?

Pastor Ramodisa spoke up in his baritone voice, "I would like to open with a prayer." "Amen." My mother agreed. "Let's all bow our heads and close our eyes." I don't think he needed to repeat that. "Father in the name of Jesus, by the blood of Jesus. We come before you tonight to say thank you. Thank you, father, for your kindness. Thank you for your mercy. Lord, we thank you for this union, for it is said in your Word that no gathering made in your presence shall be broken." "Hallelujah!"

he breathes, his words carrying a weight of reverence and longing for the memory that haunts his thoughts. With a steadying breath, Kaden's frustration ebbs away, replaced by a softer expression as he delves deeper into his recollection, each word a brushstroke on the canvas of his memory. "Do you know that the shade of her auburn hair is rare to be found?" he muses, a note of awe lacing his voice as he reminisces about the ethereal beauty that left an indelible mark on his soul.

It doesn’t assert authority. It listens. And I hate how unnatural that feels. Blake enters quietly, closing the door behind him. His expression is grave, but there’s something else there too—determination edged with resignation. “The Reverent spoke again.” My heart stutters. “Spoke?” “Not with words,” he clarifies. “With structure.” He gestures, and the air between us ripples. An image forms—not a vision pulled through the bond, but a deliberate projection. Stone corridors unfold, layered and precise, intersecting at impossible angles. Symbols line the walls, variations of the sigils carved into Midnight’s borders.

" Perhaps it was just an illusion but the moment that sentence was made, they both felt a presence... A very comforting one that surrounded them like a blanket. One which screamed safety and comfort. " Thank you Father for ordaining us both to bring freedom to our country... We adore you, Lord. " " My king.... Thanks for your promises which will be manifested in our lives. " " Thanks for your majestic presence amongst us... " " We give you all the glory and Honor. " " Amen. " " Lord, we ask for the forgiveness of sins. " " Forgive us our trespasses, Father. "