Rocs Mythology Novels & Stories

"That's not the best version. That's —" "That's a person," Draco said. Rocco held his gaze. "A specific, real, particular person," Draco said. "Who is not the best abstract version of someone. Who is Rocco." He held his brother's gaze. "Which is what she fell in love with." "She fell in love with me before the curse," Rocco said. "Before she knew who I was."

“What do you mean, Rona. Tell me everything you know.” “We all know about the Moon Goddess Lunar and the Father God of the red moon, Fenrir. Lunar hated Fenrir for being more powerful than her. Her hatred towards him ignited the war between Rogues and Pack Wolves. The royal family and her beloved pack warriors fought non-stop, intending to wipe out all the rogues. But since the Rogue was far more stronger than her own children, they betrayed her by surrendering to your ancestors, my King.” Rona said. I heard that story a long time ago, passed down by generation and generation. I thought it was just a lore which I hardly believed.

He also had it enclosed with high-curtain walls that protect her from getting seen when doing rituals and offerings. Esper glimpsed at the moon—full and cloudless. Good, the force of darkness is stronger tonight. In the middle of the garden, there’s an ancient stone caldron. She took a big handful of powder inside the small pouch and sprinkled it on. A mushroom of fire blasted, blazing enormously. She could feel the heat caressing her unblemished cheeks. This can’t flinch her, instead, she looks closer to the fire. There are three wandering shadows. 'My love is here,' Seros announced.

So many times, I have revisited that memory in my solitude, long after my mates were gone. The centuries that followed were bliss. Together, we had many daughters—fifty in total. Each inherited a fraction of my domain, governing moon cycles every four years to mark the Olympiad. Yet they were different. Some bore Pan’s essence, others Endymion’s. Then I bore twins, and something new was born. One was a satyr, Crotus, who later accompanied the Muses, lending his joy to their song. The other—he was unlike anything we had ever seen. A werewolf. The first of his kind. A son we named Lycaon.

Emotions had run wild between now and then; excitement, disbelief, discontent, rage, and now a thoughtful silence pervading the four walls like a thick blanket that lulls her back to the bay of sleep’s arms. Avian dips the feathered tip into the glass bottle and carefully lowers it onto the page where she had left, just beneath the grotesque sketch of an original Lycanthrope she had attempted whilst still in the throes of energy. “… Average of ten feet tall, five hundred pounds of muscle and fur that is impervious to the war instruments of man.” The high priest stands at the front left, his cheeks like emptied udders that tremble with each breath, “tapetum lucidum…” highly sensitised night v

Some wolces of the lesser ranks whimper. "Hola mi querida niña. (Hello my dear child.) Estoy encantada de hablar contigo.( iam thrilled to talk with you.) I am Rhea. The mother of the first generation of the gods. I will help you restore order and the proper balance to the universe. However, i will not impose it. I need you to learn how to tackle things yourself. Therefore, you will have to call forth my garndchild, the god of trickery. Place your hands on his temples, and you will see all his memories. Be careful though. He might mislead you. He is a god of trickery after all. Consider this a part of your test. If you pass this one then you are fit to lead all living creatures."

Cronus then turned away as Rhea pretended to sob in grief. Later, the goddess stole down the mountainside to the swinging golden cradle, and took her son down into the field of Mount Dikte in Crete. There the child was raised in secrecy where he was nursed by nymphs on the milk of the goat Amaltheia and guarded by the warrior Curetes who drowned out the sound of his crying with their shield-clashing battle-dance. Rhae promised them that their sheep would never be eaten by wolves and their fields would always yield wonderful harvest. Then she left her baby.

Which resulted in them defying the spirits that gave them the beauty. The Calypso, the Korean line of Magna. Witchcraft ran in their veins, mixed with blood. They were closely related to Atlas because they shared the power of witchcraft with them. They were warlocks and witches that fell for the beauty of Cassiopeia, ending with their powers also stripped by the spirits, whom they defied. They tried hiding for a long time, but were caught eventually.

Everyone started blaming this thing on Rook Theia, who came to the wedding wearing a white gown today. Rook Theia was standing on the stage with a glass, watching the throne disappear in front of her eyes. "Now, this marriage can never happen," Ace Denzell whispered in her ear. "This eclipse is not on the moon, but on your destiny. The Moon Goddess also does not want this marriage to happen." "This marriage will happen, and it will happen now. I cannot lose this throne so easily," she grabbed his shirt and started yelling. "Rook Theia, what are you doing? He is still an Ace. Respect him," Witch Rosaline stopped her by holding her hand.

The royal family enjoyed watching these magnificent animals in their natural habitat. Cynthia: (wide-eyed) And what happened? Kamila: (softly) As the years went by, a explosion from the Goddess of nature she crused Arodona and myths says that she made a white transparent not like glass yet it is like glass barrier she made from all her power so no one can cross her. Myths says she is still their,’’ Cynthia: (entranced) An explosion from the Goddess of nature? A barrier made of her power? Kamila, you're speaking of a legend, aren't you?