Black Mage Games Novels & Stories

Valhared asked with fascination as Rivyn expounded upon the glory of the ship, which, from his description, was a masterpiece of engineering and design. “It was during a war with Khatar Holquinin, if I remember rightly,” Rivyn said, frowning, and leaning upon his arms. “I believe they used mage-fire.” “Mage-fire,” Valhared was hanging upon Rivyn’s every word, wide eyed. “The formula for that has been lost.” “Not by the Fae,” Rivyn replied grimly. “But we made sure after that war to eradicate it from mankind’s possession.” “The Purge,” Valhared considered the mage. “I have read about that. It was... brutal.”

Drago had a death grip on her arm, trying to calm her, but who could be calm at a time like this? The golden beast lumbered toward them, then stopped directly in front of Drago, letting out a low growl, steam puffing from it’s huge nostrils. When Drago growled in return, Madchen jumped, trying to free herself from Drago’s grip, but he wasn’t letting her go.

Morgana explained with a sad smile on her face. I wondered why she looked sad despite the smile. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Who did this?" Sage asked with squinted eyes. "Cause I'm sure this isn't a thing back at the kingdom. This is related to black magic." He frowned. "Yeah, it isn't a thing in our world since it's a spell." Morgana shrugged. "But someone went extra miles to protect the people." "That must be Mila." Sage said. "She never grows up. The risk is huge." He complained.

The mages from Brookstone were slowly walking toward us, their long cloaks in a rainbow of colors not even moving from the wind they made, their steps were so even and slow. I stared at them for a long moment, trying to determine what the best thing to do was. A quick estimate told me that there were probably about thirty of them, which meant my team was outnumbered about five to one as mages went. The wolves would be able to help a little, but not much. They were mostly there to fight off any wolves that came our way, and Grimly Grouse had stopped using those, pulling out the big guns instead.

This is Mage. The mage can take any form, he's fast and no one matches up to his power. Mage deeply growls and grunts inside me; hearing all the thoughts inside my head. It's going to be perfect... Azzrail Black's POV "Malcom, he's going to come with you and that's final. Get the hell out of my face."I look at him, his eyes blazing with cold fury. He turns around and walks out slamming the door shut behind him. Malcom isn't thrilled about involving 'family' in matters of concern. He already hates the idea of Shira being involved in his battle. And now, I revealed to him that Adrain Sage, the fire descendant was his responsibility in the war.

“Yeah! One moment!” Zella was eating when she heard the bell ring and dashed over, believing it was the courier delivering the package of helmets she had bought. When Zella unlocked the door, she saw a square cardboard box wrapped in black bubble wrap. Zella scowled in surprise, as it was unusual for a courier to make a delivery like this; usually, the courier would deliver the parcel to her directly. She squatted down and observed that the box showed her name, not the sender's address.

"Are you scouting our house?! Who were you just communicating with on your phone?!" "Uh...is AJ Hamilton maybe home?" I warily ask, dodging the many terrifying questions. He frowns up at me with sheer intensity with a look asking whether I'm stupid or something. "We're a black family. Now I'm miffed off." Even though he's a dwarf, I'm pretty sure he can still kick my ass... I shrug, acting confused. "I figured that maybe AJ's adopted." Good save, Benley!

"Becca!" A voice, low, deep but soft, called. I closed my eyes even tighter not wanting to wake up from my dream where I was the queen of the dark, sitting on a black acrylic royal chair with a gold wood finish. Every morning I woke up, I would walk to the mausoleum connected to my palace by an underground tunnel, clanking my heeled boots along the cobblestone tiles as I checked on my prisoners. Each cell had someone who had crossed my line one way or another. It wasn't until I walked to the end where two cells were separated from the rest. The cells that were labeled hostes, latin meaning worst enemies and mortem below hostes, meaning death. Behind the old rusty bars of one of the cells was

Finding a free table in the crowded place he sat down with Howard and Goradin for a beer. "You can say what you want of these guys, but they do know how to brew a beer" Howard remarked. "Well, I haven't tasted one in months so I wouldn't know Mark. They could serve me lemonade and sell it for beer and I would never know." Price replied with a grin. The three of them just sat back and enjoyed their well-earned refreshments. While halfway through his drink Price let his eyes go across the many pictured decorations pinned to the wall. He let his eyes rest on a black and white depiction of a soldier looking at the horizon. Over the horizon emerging towering humanoid robots carrying massive canno