Circular Gallifreyan Novels & Stories

she said looking at her hands "I would have scolded Rebecca to be with you, instead of trying to part her from you" "She's not safe with me" "She was probably the safest with you!" Danté grit his teeth and looked at the sword on the table, now a new horizon opened up, Nosferatu? Creatures similar to vampires but evil, did Vlad know of them? Did he try and slay them? The words of his sword also in Celtic writing drew his attention and he brushed a speck of blood from it, so this was the real Excalibur?

Lila didn't recognize the language at first, but a closer look revealed it to be a dialect of Old English, peppered with unfamiliar phrases. The locket, however, caught her attention immediately. It was oval-shaped, with intricate floral designs etched into its surface. Hesitantly, she opened it. Inside were two tiny portraits, one of a young woman with striking blue eyes and fiery red hair, and the other of a baby, its features too small to discern clearly.

As I opened the book, the pages crackled beneath my touch, revealing secrets long forgotten by time. My eyes widened, it was Dycans chronicles!! Wasting no time, I flipped through the pages quickly. An inscription came to focus. It was”Segan language” the vampire language. Fortunately for me, I could read it. My jaw dropped when I looked at the inscription. It said “To my beloved daughter Gwen.”

Selene POV The ritual circle was ancient.It looks like it was carved into the stone courtyard centuries ago. Deep grooves filled with something dark and viscous that looked like blood but smelled worse. Like death and decay and corruption given physical form. Symbols I didn’t recognize spiraled outward from the center. Runes that hurt to look at directly. That made my eyes water and my head throb.

Blood spilled over her soft flesh, joining that from her hands that was already dripping to the floor. The earth quaked again. The stones overhead rumbled, and the candles guttered out. The fiery ring too died low, though kept on as a blue-green glow. A heavy wind huffed through the cavern, stopped, and stirred breathlike while an ashlike smell filled the loft. The only sound else was her father's chant, a litany that had somehow survived the fall of purple-towered Acheron when the barbarian Hybori had toppled that fell empire, three thousand years ago. He spoke words meaningless to the uninitiate, unless one had learned them as he had taught Camilla, or had heard them spoken in a bygone age

she suggested. Fiona scoffed. Natalie leaned in and the scent rose, cool and heavy. Lilies—sweet, almost funerary. Roses, cut before their full bloom, that peppery green of stems. Underneath, a thread of something else… metallic, like rain on iron. Her stomach flipped. The room blurred. A sound—not sound—memory, perhaps: the crackle of tires on gravel. A laugh behind her shoulder not meant for her. A white cuff speckled dark. A ring—gold, carved with a griffin—spinning where it fell, the world holding its breath to listen.

A shuffle followed from her end. “I’m sorry, you just said something I’m not aware of,” I shot back. “And I’m sure you understand why I’m asking.” Lena hesitated. “The Goth is the dreaded spirit of the Crimson Circle. It can possess you through your deepest desires. When you said Xavier was lost, I thought you meant that the Goth had possessed him.” “What, no!” “The Goth is the common unionizing spirit of the Crimson Circle members,” Lena continued. “For quite a few years, the Goth hasn’t found a suitable host to make it into the world. It’s why not too many people know about it.”

Fractured. Mara whispered, “We need to go.” Kellen’s eyes darted across the clearing. “Something’s under us.” “No,” Seraphina said softly, almost in a trance. “Someone.” The stone spiral beneath her feet pulsed again. And then, suddenly, the earth split. A ring of dust burst upward as stone crumbled inward, revealing a circular stairwell carved straight into the hill’s heart. The descent was pitch-black, except for the sigils that bled light along the walls. A spiral descent into something ancient and forgotten.

91 (Tyler’s POV) The ritual circle around the grave was almost finished. Wolfsbane and mountain ash had been mixed with iron filings and spread in a wide perimeter. Salt lines were reinforced with sacred glyphs carved into stone markers at the cardinal points. Celia, shoulder to shoulder with Carson’s witch, muttered a final incantation that made the air buzz and the earth shudder.

The gift of the teal talisman. In a time long forgotten, in the mystical realm of Serathia, there existed a fabled necklace known as the Teal Talisman. Its origin lay shrouded in the annals of history, a tale woven in darkness and mystery. As the legend goes, the Teal Talisman was created by a powerful vampire sorceress named Sylara, whose enchantments were said to be unparalleled. The necklace was forged from rare gemstones imbued with ancient arcane spells, granting it wondrous magical powers beyond mortal comprehension.