The Prophets Hair Novels & Stories

he said while keeping his eyes on mine. “Tell us then, what is your assumption, Prophet?” Elaine said firmly. Multiple gasps were heard from around the room at the term ‘Prophet’. How could she possibly know if he was a Prophet? I understand that she has experience with Seer’s, seeing as she lives with Pappi. But a Prophet? A Seer has natural power and ability, something that is tangible to the people around them, therefore not easily impersonated. A Prophet is not so easily recognized, as not all of them are powerful, and in most cases, the majority of them are frauds. Traditionally a Prophet is just a holy man, a disciple of the Goddess that claims to hold a direct line of contact. Weres h

"At last, you've come." I blinked, attempting to absorb their presence and the abrupt shift in reality. "Who are you?" My voice sounded more steady than I felt. "We are the Keepers," another said, his tone gentler but no less powerful. "Guardians of the prophecy and of what lies beyond." My fingers clenched into fists, and nails dug into my palms. "What prophecy?" What has this got to do with me? "You are the Harbinger," the first person murmured, moving closer. "The person who maintains the balance between salvation and destruction. The key to the packs' future—and maybe all of existence."

I looked out at my pack — my family — and saw nothing but love and acceptance in their eyes. The pack's eldest member, a wizened old wolf named Clara, came forward. Her eyes, clouded with age, seemed to look right through me as she spoke. “The silver-haired savior,” she croaked, her voice carrying despite its weakness. Just as the ancient prophecy foretold. “In the most challenging times, when the earth itself resists, a child born under the moon with silvery hair will emerge, restoring harmony to our world and leading us into a new age of tranquility.”

I feel my heart start to pick up speed as a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and my hands become blocks of ice. She grins with sadistic glee. “That sure got your heart racing,” she notes proudly. “Invidia…” I slowly caution. “I mean, we have all these tribes who believe that their hair is sacred. Seeing it as a connection to their ancestors, a symbol of strength or even an extension of their spirit.” She stands up straight, smiling malevolently as she places her hand behind her back. “And then there’s you. Apatite made you squirm a little, but I’ve never seen you jump the way you did when I tried to touch your hair. It made me think…” She brings her hand out from behind her, reve

"The prophet appeared in dark robes and a hood. We never saw his face. He simply entered our camp surrounded by an unnatural fog, and requested to see the emperor. No one knows how he managed to sneak past our scouts. Our forces were small, but we were diligent and observant. No one saw him slip through. I remember he held both his hands up, indicating peace and surrender. There was something soothing about the way he spoke to us. It reminded me of how my mother would silence my tears as a small child. He wanted to help His Grace. He asked for permission to enter the emperor's tent, and we granted it." "However," Gaius added, "the moment the prophet disappeared into His Grace's tent, it was

he asks softly. I nod, even though he can't see me. "Yes. You…have beautiful hair." My hands itch at my sides. I wonder if he'll let me braid it. The practice of braiding a barbarian man's hair is very sacred; the longer the hair of the barbarian, the greater the warrior. He stiffly nods his head as he relaxes. "Alright." I blink. I don't know if I've heard him right, or if I'm just hallucinating or dreaming. But I'm not. I touch his hair, his

She simply answered. "How da..." She leaned over, interrupting me. "YOU. ARE. A. PROTÉGÉ." She pronounced every single word slowly as if she needed to remind me about that fact. I gulped loudly, taking another step back, trying to scoot as far as I could from her. "Not a vampire's potential bride or lover. A protégé! A woman chosen by a lord, a clan lord, and then well-kept and educated for years before she is turned. But you won't be like any of those newly turned vampires, who'll need to survive centuries before they could raise their rank. No, you'll be turned into a noble vampire lady with clan members bowing down to you."

Jordan said knowing that he could no longer avoid telling her what really happened. "So what happened in the one week that we all thought you were dead?" Tasha asked as he took his seat opposite her. "I was in hell and I fought a lot of demons, like dozens of them and I was gifted by the gods. I woke to find my hair white and of course, I hate the color, but I didn't want to cover it completely either that's why I left it white at the roots" Jordan said and Tasha smiled at his expression when he talked about how he hated the white hair.

Mithraos nodded. "A lot. I loved- has always loved his hair. He grew it out because I like it," said Mithraos softly. Adharva placed his arm around Mithraos who gave him a small grateful smile and nodded. "Is this an angel in our bedroom?" asked Adharva. Eloy turned and saw the emperors at the door. He felt his cheeks gain a red tinge. His emperors were eyeing him in awe. "It's just my hair," said Eloy looking down.

Now, they could operate even in the open as long as they had control over the king's movement and as long as they were the ones telling him what to do. Except from Albus, there a few other powerful prophets in the kingdom of Nihon. 'Zephyr' of the black wind, 'Dune' of the red sand, 'hopper' of pestilence, and 'Nicholas' of slumber mist. There were many other prophets scattered all around the world but these ones were the most powerful of them all. They refused to join Albus in his last battle because he was too impatient and small minded to wait for what they truly had in store for their enemies.