Who Is King Of Gods Novels & Stories

It has three blue-grey gems – a big one at the center and small ones beside it. “I’ve asked permission for your parents and they agreed. Emily, I am willing to live the rest of my life with you and I will marry you once again after you graduate college.” He started. Words were caught up once again in her throat. Her heart beat excruciatingly hard against her chest, “What about Hell?” “Hell has its own king.” “Who?” “Alfred.” “Alfred, the mortal butler?” Her eyes widened, “That couldn’t be! He’s gone!”

I was told to move on, I was told to let the soul of my mate go and be in the bosom of the moon goddess but I couldn't, I couldn't let go. The door creaked and a young male walked in. He bowed and said "It's time." I nodded and he bowed before exiting the room, I stood up and button the jacket of my suit and then composed myself before leaving the room. I am the Lycan king, I am King Elijah and I have a kingdom to protect. *** *** *** The meeting room was packed with elders of the coven arguing among themselves. I sighed and popped in one of the empty seats and watched them closely.

How long was it that he had known King? In this life, it had been a matter of days. But his heart said it had been a lifetime. And the part of him that was still Tricksy the Orangelo who'd become the Trickster god of Chaos, that part agreed they had been together since the beginning. King had been Tricksy's mate, his Innehavre, before they stepped out of their mortal lives and became avatars of cosmic powers. Before Innehavre was even a word.

The three Pillar Gods in question were the God of Knowledge, the God of War, and the God of Healing, while the Goddess was Ayja, the three-eyed Goddess who created the world and humans. Harriet turned to the altar and saw another statue behind Ayja. It was a statue of a tall man with long hair. “Oh,” seeing Harriet staring silently at the statue of the tall man behind the statue of Ayja, Reverend Derek tried to explain, “In our belief, isn't there one more god recorded in the scriptures?” Harriet nodded. The god standing behind Ayja was the main God worshipped in the Palace Church, the God who created the Dragons… the Great God Andrius.

Elena slowly lift up her head and turn to see who touched her only for her to come face to face with the spoilt brat. "Now that you are finally awake since you think here is your home. I want you to give me the main names of the Olympians gods and goddesses and their powers." "I bet you don't know it." Demon said in gloat. Snorting loudly, she begins. "The twelve main Olympians are: Zeus (Jupiter, in Roman mythology): the king of all the gods (and father to many) and god of weather, law and fate. Hera (Juno): the queen of the gods and goddess of women and marriage.

Adam and Joshua shake their heads. “If the goddess brought you and your mate together, then how can the king keep you apart? How can he keep us apart?” I ask. “She is a goddess; surly he can’t override her.” “Technically, you are correct, but if he decides you are too good, make Adam too strong, he will deny you,” Joshua says. “Wait, but the goddess would surely punish him,” I say, holding on to Adam. I just got him; I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose him.

“He’s more than we ever anticipated. He’s the fucking Alpha King.” “He may be the Alpha King, the mightiest werewolf, but he can’t do anything. He’s nothing compared to my powers,” Kaelvor boasted smugly. After all, he was the God of Destruction, the most powerful being who could destroy anything at will. He took pride in his strength and efficiency.

Ready to kill him. Kael tried standing. Failed. The creature lunged, and the King appeared in front of him. Darkness exploded violently. The King tore through the void creature with pure rage, shadow claws ripping the monster apart before it could touch Kael. The battlefield froze. Because the King, the ancient god of hunger, was protecting Kael. The abyss roared furiously. “YOU DEFY ME FOR THEM?” The King stood over Kael protectively. Silver eyes blazing. “YES.”

On the bridge across the river stood a figure. He wore a dark cloak, the hood pulled low, his face hidden. But his shape I knew too well: the broad shoulders, the slightly stooped back, a stance like a volcano that might break open at any moment. It was Zeus. His face came out from under the hood. Three years apart, and he had aged greatly. Not the natural aging of years; the King of the Gods does not age. It was the look of a thing eaten hollow from within. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones sharp, his lips cracked, the whites of his eyes shot through with red.