A Wizard's Guide To Defensive Baking Novels & Stories

I tried to project, hoping he'd hear. He did. Fenris turned, howling a warning. The protective circle around Beatrice tightened, but fifty determined wolves were hard to stop. Then Beatrice raised both hands, and a wall of white fire erupted between her and the attackers. The flames were cold, not hot, but just as deadly. Any wolf that touched them froze solid. "Goddess," I heard someone breathe nearby. "She's incredible." She was. She was also drawing every bit of enemy attention. They'd figured out she was the key to our defense. Now they were throwing everything at her position.

“I’ve just been trying to avoid the truth for too long.” Eira suddenly blurted out something that didn’t seem to make any sense. I couldn’t keep up with her shifting emotions anymore. I just stood there, feeling helpless, like a clueless deer caught in the middle of a storm. Eira gave a quiet laugh, though tears still clung to her lashes. “Forget it. It’s nothing,” she murmured, brushing them away. “Come on, let’s head back. Shall I make you something sweet? I found this old recipe for a wizard’s cake in my mother’s cupboard—it’s supposed to bring pleasant dreams.”

Just me, the Inquisitor in the library, and the man in the wall. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a heavy, cast-iron skillet from the rack. It felt absurd—the "Ghost" who could crash a stock market was armed with cookware. But in a house where every electronic pulse was being monitored by The Weaver, the most effective weapon was the one that didn't have an IP address. I headed toward the study, my socks silent on the herringbone floors. I stopped at the door, the wood cool against my forehead. The scritching had stopped.

I needed every skill I could develop before then. I chose the windowsill as my canvas. A protection ward, something to keep enemies from entering while I slept. The cabin had no existing wards—I had checked when we first arrived—so this would be my first real defensive magic. I traced the pattern carefully, chalk moving in the precise lines Morgana had taught me. The first circle. The second. The connecting sigils. Then I reached the final point, the central anchor that would bind everything together— And my chalk scraped against something already carved into the wood.

said the Clonovian girl. “Skyoldir Tillbalker?” Alisa looked confused by the magic technique she had just heard. “A shield magic that encloses its target like a maze. People from inside can’t get out, and people from outside can’t get there either,” Sophie explained. “What? So how do we defeat her and get out of here?” Alisa asked. Sophie lowered her sword. “‘Skyoldir Tillbalker’ locks its target inside a triangular maze-like shield. At each corner is a kind of black shadow pillar stuck into the ground.”

Not everything could be healed with honey words. “Everley’s on its feet,” I said quietly as we passed the east wing. Kellan cocked his head. “Might be standing. Barely.” Witches and wizards stood at the outer edge of the courtyard, chalk runes in their fingers as they etched patterns into stone and tapped against the ward points that flared to life under their touch, fingers sparking with captured sunlight as they chanted to keep the weak protections in place. It was not elegant magic. It was not the dazzling spectacle I’d come to expect from Obscura. It was raw and ugly and magic that would keep them alive.

I said. “And you have a talent for tripping over flat surfaces,” he countered. I scowled down at him. He smirked up at me. I loved him so much it ached. After the decorating, I returned inside, where Kaelan’s old royal guard waited at the kitchen island. Their armor was replaced with aprons. Their faces were lit with enthusiasm. And absolute confusion. I slapped a gingerbread mold onto the counter. “Today, you are learning something vital.” The captain pursed his lips. “Combat?”

“Don’t come out until Mommy or Amanda come get you.” He nods, his eyes full of terror. “Go. Now.” I watch as he races around the corner, searching for a place to hide. I rejoin Amanda in the front, where two of the rogues have shifted and are watching her like prey. I shift instantly, moving forward. There isn’t much room in the bakery, and it prevents me from having the flexibility to lunge. But as Amanda mutters another spell, I charge, hitting one of the wolves head-on.

The only problem is, once you start him, it's hard to stop the demon. The Guide to Potions of Nature, a book of potions I got for my birthday from Daisy since I myself, is not really the best, yet my mind wasn’t focused at the back of my wings thinking about how Zander was before. But I shook it off, knowing that any distractions can make the whole spell turn bad. As I waves my hand raised my hand over the pot, I said: To be little Short as a sprout Rise up above the ground Up to a foot, maybe two

"And this will for sure work?" "Of course, it will work. You wouldn't come to me if you thought it wouldn't. Now get out of my house. I was busy before you interrupted me." She clipped, storming past me with sitting down without another glance in my direction. Opal's house was warded against any winnowing, a smart choice most witches made to ensure their safety from demons and monsters, especially when working with dark magic and dirty bargains.