A Dark And Secret Magic Novels & Stories

A blacksmith swore loyalty to the crown— And the metal in his forge softened like wax without heat. None of it catastrophic. None of it violent. But undeniable. The laws of magic were bending. Not because Lily commanded it. Because her existence was recalibrating the field. Luke stood in the war chamber staring at reports spread across the table. “Spontaneous manifestation,” one general muttered. “Localized distortions,” said another. “Divine contamination,” whispered a priest. Lily stood at the center of the room, silent.

I figured I would just sleep on the chair until I knew the rules of this twisted game. I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, my hair pinned up in a messy bun. SLAM. The front door hit the wall with a violence that made me drop my glass. He was back. And even from the kitchen, I could feel the darkness radiating off him. Kiran walked in. He looked different—unstable. His eyes were bloodshot, glowing with a dark intensity that made my skin crawl. He walked straight toward me and, without a word, reached out and pulled the clip from my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders.

Or a warning. I waited until I stopped hearing their footfalls before standing up from my bed, chest heaving. Made my way across to my desk and ran my fingers along the hollow space beneath the inkwell. Dust-free. Nothing risky left out in the open. Hidden magic was trickier than that. Words. Lies wrapped around secrets. And there was no rune, not even Maelin could read between my damn lines. But I heard her loud and clear. This was a power play. From blood witches.

“I'll eradicate every last one of them from the surface of this world, if I have to.” I followed the trial of the cart to an open valley. Meara's scent had just been there, or I could smell a drop of her blood. But something else was there with me. Dead carcass. Immediately it lunged at me as I turned to face it, but I was left stunned. My feral red eyes dimmed for a moment. It was a brown fur Lycan, only that this particular Lycan smelled like a vampire. I had seen this before. A conjuring—Necromancy. Such magic was forbidden, lost to ancient wars. It takes only a powerful witch to be able to conjure a soul from the underworld into a dead Lycan's body.

I ask. “Power,” she says simply. “Real power and not that hedge magic your mother taught you or the one we did those years ago. This—” She taps the book cover. “This is old dark magic. It is forbidden for good reason, but the benefits of wielding its power is worth more than any rules, though if you want to get those benefits, you have to be ready for the sacrifice it requires.” “What kind of sacrifice?” I ask. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” She smiles even bigger and opens the book to a page marked with a black ribbon. The first text on the page is handwritten in a language I don't recognize. It's not Latin or any other language I am conversant with.

"Why do I feel... so... heavy?" I whisper looking over at Candi, hoping she can give me the answer. "This is where she practices her magic. It came at a high cost," she whispers back. "The whole area is imbued with her magic. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, she's all about dark magic." I'm going to agree with her assessment. The whole place felt dark and twisted.

With a weak smile, I dry my eyes on the cuff of my shirt, then concentrate on the text again. “While this gives dark magick, like unholy magick, an advantage in rate of casting and acceleration or amplification of the associated magickal turbulence, it provides a significant disadvantage over time. Specifically, dark magick, once cast, hastens towards its target, similar to an avalanche. While powerful and growing, it is nevertheless imprecise, inaccurate, and self-limiting, with the lowest energy state requiring more magick for sustained use and exhausting the user at an exponentially faster rate.

Cassandra knew them from her literature class in Eastern Slavic folklore. She was absent-mindedly stroking the sleeping Feathered Serpent as her eyes gazed at the beautiful work of art. Whoever built this castle must have wild creativity and imagination. Every single chamber was different and grand. As they waited, the princess placed her hand on the wall and muttered a language that sounded as old as the place itself. Then circles and symbols burned in bright white light from the surface of the wall. Cassandra's eyes went wide. A moment later, the stone fell away, revealing a secret entrance before them. She remembered what Owlyn told her, that the whole place was thickly enchanted. Now she

“And whatever is being hidden, is very dark.” “Do you think it’s a vampire?” “A magic this dark is coming from something just as dark. I don’t see a wolf being that dark… so possibly a vampire, yes.” “What they are hiding… could it be a place?” “It would have to be big and harvest a lot of magic,” she said in return. “That’s the only reason why it would take this much dark magic to hide it.” “How would we uncover it?” He asked, eyeing her carefully. She was quiet for another moment as she glanced over at Lily. They both gave one another identical and wary looks, before looking back at Landry.

"Sometimes, to defeat darkness, we must dabble in shadows. The magic I speak of is not something any of us would choose under normal circumstances, but desperate times, my dear." Orion folded his arms, skepticism evident on his face. "What exactly is this magic? And how do we even know it won't backfire?" The shadow weaver chuckled, pulling out an old, weathered book from within the folds of his cloak. It seemed out of place, so ancient amidst the modern chaos. "This," he began, "is the Tome of Nyx. Within its pages lie the secrets of the night itself. And one particular spell, the Eclipsing Veil, can make us invisible to Seraphina's senses."