Sacred Owl 소설 & 이야기

“But she can’t be a sacred one without a wolf.” “And have you ever seen a sacred one born without an arm?” Finn asks. “Because I haven’t. It’s not in any of the history books, nothing. Sacred ones are supposed to be just that,” he says as he takes his flask out if his pocket, “Sacred.” I watch as my two men go back and forth about Mia, my confusion only growing. It’s true her wolf may be absent but doesn’t necessarily mean she doesn’t have one at all. She is also definitely a sacred one; the hair alone proves that. Sacred ones have spread the rumor that white hair means a curse because they were once hunted. Many sacred ones have mystical powers.

Wang Zhan was anxious, wanted to ask what it was, but was afraid of randomly interjecting to make Murong Cheng unhappy. At this time, Du Hao narrated, "I have a friend who has practiced Taoism for a few years, and has visited famous mountains and monuments over the years, so he has some insights. He told me that there is an unknown village in the southwest, where the village people worship a bird called the three-eyed raven, which belongs to the yin spirit, and if it can be raised from a young age, it is more than suitable to be used as a soul keeper." "...... Three-eyed ...... God Crow?" Murong Cheng read the words slowly and methodically.

I won't give her any satisfaction. “You know…,” Natasha sneered, "we only train because to show us with the Ashwing Owls. They are the one who decides who is strong enough to be Luna and who is just pretending to be strong but is weakling," I clench and unclench my fists at her words, trying not to show any reaction to her words. It's also true that Ashwing Owls are one of the strongest creatures in the supernatural realm. Their feathers shimmer with ember, allowing them to blend into the sky.

Betsy asked, applying some sweet-smelling ointment on Emberlynn's skin. "I'm fine, and what's that oil?" she asked, watching as the brunette brought out variety from the chest while Betsy massaged her skin. "It's the Oakheart Elixir, and it's to ensure fertility, longevity, and many more beautiful things. But that's the most essential. It's a natural oil that's extracted from the acorns of the oak tree, particularly from the ancient oak grove deep within the sacred forest. Yes, the oak tree is a sacred forest, and we werewolves' lives are tied to it; that's why it surrounds us." she explained.

“Dominic, my dear friend, this isn’t a battle of charm, but a test of will. Keep your jokes for the exit, if you make it out that is.” The Elders formed a circle around us, and Elder Torik began to speak. “The Hunt of the Hollow Woods is sacred. It is a rite born in the blood and breath of the First Howl. It tests not strength, but worthiness. The Spirit Gazel awaits, and only the one who brings it forth may claim its blessing.”

She began reciting the ancient words, thanking the earth for its bounty and asking for continued blessings in the coming year. I tried to focus on the ceremony, on the beauty and tradition of it all. But my mind kept wandering back to Liam, to his rejection, and the way he'd made me feel so small and worthless. Suddenly, I felt something land on my shoulder. I turned my head slightly and found myself eye-to-eye with a large barn owl. Its golden eyes stared at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. My gift. The connection to birds that had been part of me since childhood. They came to me when I called them, served as my scouts and protectors. And they also came unbidden when they had

I gasped in surprise. “Aren't sacred creatures a myth?” I asked in confusion. They all looked at each other, and then Elijah took my hand. “To the world, the sacred creatures are a myth, but the truth, known only to a few, is that they are beings that hibernate underground,” Elijah explained. "They are difficult to track, especially because they are beings that slumber to such an extent that their energy cannot be perceived. They have dedicated themselves to a deep sleep to awaken when the great call of the gods comes. And that is not something we hope will happen."

The little owl hopped twice across the table, claws clicking softly on the polished stone. King Ortiz didn't waste a heartbeat. "Commander," he said sharply. The commander stepped forward with a fist to his chest. "My king." "Gather the people fast. Take them underground. Now." "Yes, my alpha." He turned on his heel and sprinted out, shouting orders down the corridor. Ortiz faced the owl again, lifted it gently, and whispered in that ancient tongue only the royal house still knew-low, clipped, urgent syllables meant only for the creature's ears:

It’s part of our offering to the alliance as well. We carved out a part of the sacred land to grow goods to disrupt for medicinal use across the regions. More like access to purchase. We don’t normally sell anything from the sacred land. So any other creatures not a part of the alliance don’t have access. I jogged up to the warriors on site. It was a little mascara just before the grounds where the sacred land began. There were wolves lying on the ground with their fur sort of floating away from their bodies. What the hell is this?

And when she reached the final phrase, the flame wolves raised their heads and howled in unison. The fire behind the altar roared to life. Not orange. Not red. Blue. Sacred fire. Matron fire. The kind of fire that doesn’t just burn. It transforms. “Step forward,” Oya said. I did. “Where?” I asked, barely above a whisper. She touched her own left shoulder. “Here.” I pulled my coat down. The cold stung my bare skin. “Mark yourself,” she said. “No one else may do it.”