Antique Spell Books Novels & Stories

“This is her spell book, my ancestor stole it from her.” My eyes widened. Stealing a witch’s spell book was the same as stealing her power, her family’s power, they would be worthless. Something felt oddly familiar about that idea. The pages were ancient, old and yellowed with tears. Something about it was strange, like it was radiating magical energy, but it wasn’t normal energy more like a magnified radiation of it.

His hands finally came up from under the counter and clutched in its grip was a book–brown covered and without a speck of dust. “A cheque book?" I asked, arching a brow as I tilted my head. “You want to give me a cheque? I appreciate the thought, Ger Bear, but you know I ain't allowed in the back. You know what happened the last time I went there.” "It's not a cheque book,” Gerald mumbled before sliding it across the counter to me. "It's a spell book. One that can be used to summon the demon lord, Anakin.” I stood still, my fingers grazing the cover. "A spell book?” I asked and Gerald nodded. A strained laugh tore out of my lips. "Tell me you're joking, Gerald.”

He countered as he turned the pages. "Why do you have it if it was supposed to be burnt? And what type of book of spells is this?" She asked. "It has been passed down from generation, my great-great found it under a burnt house 150-200 years ago. It is said to hold powers, but up until now I've seen nothing." He hesitated, "This is the Ginnak book of spells," "Ginnak? What's that?" She asked, totally confused. Robert raised his head from the book and glared at her, "I can't believe you haven't been paying attention these few days," Lexi put on a fake pleading expression and Robert scowled.

Empty. Good. No whispers. Just rows of books that smelled faintly of dust and old leather. I drifted between shelves, trailing my fingers along worn spines. “Herbs of the Southern Marsh,” “Defense Spells of the Fifth Era,” “Principles of Alchemy.” My guards hovered like anxious statues. And then— I stopped. My hand froze on a spine I hadn’t seen in years. The leather was scuffed, the gold lettering half-burnt, but my heart recognized it before my mind did.

"They have, ever since she was born." Cassandra set the little serpent among the piles of gold coins. The creature sagged in defeat and exhaustion after lying before that terrible fire. "There it is," Vasilisa's voice came from behind a mountain of walnut-sized raw rubies. It wasn't hard to find the book. It was placed on a golden stand in between two golden Sirin statues. The grimoire turned out to be the largest book Cassandra had ever seen, with pages made of parchment illuminated with tracery, and it was open to a page thickly covered with elegant, intricate writing.

I did try and fight against doing this spell but if there was a time for mistakes, it was now with Aunt Celeste by my side. "Okay, let me prepare," My lungs expanded and processed my stretched breaths. I placed my Grimoire into my hands and let my mind communicate with the pages the type of spell I wanted to get us to Aunt Celeste's home in Oregon. The book pulsated small vibrations into my palms. The tingling sensation on the top layer of my skin became stronger as time proceeded and the Grimoire flickered finally revealing its off-white pages. The small wind created in the process brushed the distinctive scent of an aged book right into my nostrils.

I had never felt anything like it. The thought of the youngling made me feel unsettled. There was definitely more to him than I had anticipated. “What are you, little one?” I muttered, moving away from the sanctum towards my shelf containing a collection of spell books and ancient literature. I glanced through the books and finally picked up a leather-bound book. It contained information and findings on subjects relating to mythical creatures, magic and spell origins. I flipped through the brittle pages, looking for references to blood resistance, magical rejection, or rare lineages.

“If I wait any longer, I’ll lose myself.” The archives smelled of dust, ink, and something else, magic. Ancient magic. The kind that prickled against the skin like invisible claws. Torches burned with blue flames on either side of the long, arched hallway. Shelves upon shelves towered above me, filled with leather-bound tomes, forbidden scrolls, and relics that seemed to breathe. The moon goddess’s mark was carved on the walls, mocking me with its cold serenity. I moved forward slowly, my fingertips grazing the bindings of old spellbooks. Most of them were written in tongues long forgotten, but I was looking for one thing, the Severing Ritual.

I glanced around at the objects on the shelves, wondering if there was anything that could help me escape or at least pass the time. My eyes landed on a small, leather-bound book. I walked over to it, running my fingers over the cover. It was old and worn, but it looked like it might be interesting. I opened it, blowing off the dust, and began to flip through the pages. As I read, I realised it was some kind of spellbook. The words were in an ancient language, but the diagrams and illustrations were fascinating. I wondered if any of the spells might help me get out of this situation.

As Sable delved deeper into the book, she discovered a section dedicated to elemental magic—a topic that resonated deeply with her. The pages were filled with intricate diagrams and instructions on harnessing the power of fire, water, earth, and air. Eager to put her newfound knowledge into practice, Sable ventured back to the sacred grove where she had obtained the pendant. With the crystal of eternity pulsating around her neck and the Book of Ancients clasped firmly in her hand, she stood facing a mighty oak tree.