Novel & Cerita Shaman Gods

True until the very end, Shammuramat was like me, an outsider. She never again spoke of her people, but I saw that void haunting her eyes that came from having no place to call home - akin to me. Umma was nothing more than a dusty mound the last time I went back. I had found onagers grazing in the inner sanctum of the temple of Shara, once so forbidden and frightening. The herd wasn't afraid to graze on the hallowed grounds. I still believed in gods and goddesses. I just hated them for their false favors, their insatiable hunger and their conviction that they were better than humanity.

Never have I bothered until now. She nods taking it in, “So, I have a soul and you have an essram and yet I am your soulmate or… what was the word you used?” “Animai.” “Yes, that. There are six other Gods, why would you be saddled with a human?” she asks in confusion.

When I was younger, I’d heard whispers of the shaman who lived beyond the edges of our territory, deep in the ancient woods. Some people said he was as old as the forest itself. Others believed he wasn’t even fully human, they said the spirit had touched him because anytime he comes suddenly and tells something, they are always true. They say he rarely came close to the pack lands unless he was to deliver a very important information. The Seer didn’t speak much, but when he did, his words carried weight. Some believed he could communicate directly with the Moon Goddess herself, asking for guidance and warnings. Some said he never blinked. Others said he drank from rivers no one else could fi

After a brief pause, Crystal nodded her head and told her a little bit of what ha happened. “That was Shiva. He is a god – a god of destruction. And he is from my home –the home of Master Mane.” For the first time since their conversation began, Crystal spat out more than a sentence. Ancestor Ice was stunned by what she heard. A god? How were there other gods in this world? A feeling of helplessness filled her heart and she felt lost. They were helpless against Pazuzu. How were they supposed to deal with several gods now? “Don’t worry. There will be no others. He came here for my Master. Master made sure he was buried here.” Crystal soothed Ancestor Ice’s worry and shook her at the same time

Ann wondered. “It is not easy, because they move so fast and are so strong a normal human cannot trap them to burn them or to leave them in the sun.” “Oh. A Shaman could put a trap spell on them? Right?” Ann asked, having an idea pop up in her head. “If a Shaman can get them to trust them to keep them in one place long enough,” Eljo said, wondering why his daughter will ask such a question. “Breakfast is ready,” Ann's mom called from downstairs.

I snapped out of my reverie and proceeded with the main reason why we had called in the first place. "I want to know how to reverse the effects of that potion. I'm tired of living with this disability. I'm a ticking time-bomb." "The shaman is usually in his shrine. I'll check him out. I just hope Damian hasn't bought him over to his dark side." I hoped so too. He's the only one that'll have a solution to my wolf problem right now. The pack shaman is chosen by the moon goddess, and acts as a descendant of the moon goddess. It is said that they're usually able to hear directly from the moon goddess herself.

After decades of conquering the shaman’s rivals, the forbidden animals felt they fulfilled their end of the bargain just as the shaman fulfilled his, and wanted to return to their sanctuary and live in peace. Drunk with power, the greedy shaman refused to part with his army of immortal annihilators. He threatened to kill every last one of them if they didn’t serve him. Mutiny was inevitable as the forbiddens fought against the man who sought to enslave them, and with great effort they killed him. After their victory, the forbiddens lived in peace in an ethereal sanctuary that a local witch—a former enemy of the shaman they had spared—created for 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."

Shamans wore age like a mask, their shabby exteriors concealing a power that ignored time. ‘So it truly is a Shaman,’ Era snarled, low and dangerous. ‘What was he planning for us? Romani warned that they use our blood to strengthen themselves in vile ceremonies. Our witch side feeds them the magic they twist into evil. I remember reading that Shamans carry glass vials of blood, drinking from them like wine. Disgusting, parasitic creatures.’ A shiver of revulsion ran down my spine, cooling the heat in my veins.

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.