Shaman Gods Novels & Stories

It was full of a golden oil that he had warmed over a fire. "The Hunter has had his fun," Tane said. His voice was like a soft song. "He was fast and raw. But now, your body needs to be cared for. I am the Shaman. I know the secrets of the skin. I know how to make the Goddess open like a flower in the sun." He reached down and took Ava’s hand. His skin was very soft. He led her out of the ferns and toward a small hut that sat near a giant, ancient tree.

Julian's POV I had seen Mom talking to the tall creepy man yesterday. I couldn't hear what they were saying but I could read the low tones of, reverent, “shaman Mhalak's" that fell from her lip. According to my studies, shamans were beings with a great attachment to the spiritual realm and were even said to liaise with the moon goddess! It was honestly cool but the man's aura rubbed the wrong way. The shaman scanned the room, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. "Isadora," he said, his voice smooth and oily. "I trust everything is prepared?"

With their dire wolves on their side growling for the inevitable fight, the night releases an eerie silence before the bloody battle. “Clan leader.” The shaman’s holding a high rank unto their clan bow, paying their respect to their clan head who just arrive at the ritual place with the child in two. “Let’s end this.” Commanding with firmness and distinction, everyone nodded taking the steps as the flame that’s swirling in the central direction and up in the middle of the ground ritual land commence. Guided by the rope and red ribbon that bounds and surrounds the entire area where shamans and priestesses are the ones who can enter and are allowed. Presented inside the circular pentagram are

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.

“What?” “Yes sir. Apparently, we are her oracles. She made it so I can draw the scene.” I said holding up the drawing pad. “And Liz sees the whole picture as like a video of sorts.” “I never dreamed I’d be alive to see an oracle of the Moon Goddess!” Alpha James exclaimed. “So, you believe us?” Liz asked. “Of course, I do! There are many books that tell of different oracles through the ages and how coveted they are. We cannot let anyone know about you two.”

He had saved my life when I was a scrawny, terrified orphan fleeing my own personal hell, and he had just done it again. I owed him his life. I wiped my eyes, as a memory flashed in the dark corners of my mind. Years ago, when I was a quiet girl working in the lower levels of the Silver-Crest pack house, I had heard whispers about the shaman who lived in the valley. They said he wasn't just a healer; he belonged to an ancient order capable of soul-shifting— moving a spirit from a dying or trapped vessel into a new one, but only in special circumstances. Only if the person's journey on earth wasn't truly finished.

The elders formed a circle around the array, their chants now turning to a low hum. “Moon Goddess, protect us!” the shaman whispered, her voice shaking like fallen leaves. “Guide these two lovers’ souls and give them the strength to fight this dark energy.” The moongrass torches flared brighter, their scent overwhelming my consciousness as the elders began to chant louder. The wolf-tooth totems were now rattling loudly, their clinking sounding like some frantic alarm as the shaman’s voice rose. “By the Moon’s blood, we begin!” she bellowed, her voice now turning to a guttural chant that chilled my bones.

The Shaman’s name, I eventually learned, was Mora. It meant ‘bitterness’ or ‘fate’ in an ancient language, and both fit. She wasn’t concerned about my pain; she focused on my potential for destruction. She understood that the pain from rejection was a renewable source of energy. She aimed to teach me how to harness it.

Brizella was getting excited to ask. "There are already 6 goddesses who saved my people. My ancestors were saved by all of them. However, we are still waiting for the 7th goddess," he retorted. "Don't you hate humans too? But why do you consider the child born between humans and the wolf nation to be your savior goddess?" Brizella was even more astonished. "We may hate the human race, but those goddesses are special children because they were born in an unusual way," Samuel did not tire of explaining to the girl.

To the goblins, blood and strength were everything. The war chief’s themselves did not communicate much with each other. Each tribe had its own borders and there was no pillaging or grab for the land. The tribes did not need it. Zanestor was big enough for all of them. And they were all more than busy looting Canestor. In the unlikely event of a dispute, war chiefs would go to the central temple. The central temple was similar to the magic academies in Velas. New shamans were trained there and each tribe sent its disciples. It was also the place where the high shaman resided. The high shaman was the spiritual leader of all the goblins. He had no real authority over the tribes, but every war