Circular Gallifreyan Novels & Stories

Ivy asked, staring at the map with hopeful eyes. “The word on the paper Cutter sent to me, the one Cinder wrote down, translated as ‘oileán naofa,’” Lyric explained. “There weren’t that many letters carved in her back,” Rider pointed out, looking skeptical. “No, of course not. There were runes that represented both of those concepts in an ancient form of Gaelic. Since we knew it was a Celtic cross, thanks to Cinder,” she gestured at the woman across the room with a smile, which was returned, and Ru tried not to scowl, “I realized where I needed to look, so I did the translations from the original symbols, to Gaelic, to English.”

Being a king, Xee was also a member of the council. Addy trailed off, "This logo circle has 6 parts and each one represents a supernatural creature. Here, see this paw with a human handprint, it's for werewolves. This union of three circles is for witches." Her finger shifted to the next one, "Can you see this arrow and bow? That's for elves. And this portal arch is for warlocks. This fangs here is for vampires and this flower bouquet is for faes." I looked at Addy in awe, "You really are pro at it, girl."

Taking a closer inspection of the cuff around my ankle I could see a faint inscription carved into the metal. “It’s the cuff.” I said to Rayne as she got closer to me to see what I was looking at. “Do you think I can remove it for you?” She asks but I don’t think this is an easy spell like it was to remove the rings. “I’m not sure. I’d need to study what it says first and see if I can conjure a spell that will work to open it. This is definitely old Greek, but I think these chains are more than just spelled.” I tell her as she grabs my ankle and starts reading the spell that is carved in the cuff.

"But the key isn't a password or a chemical formula. It’s a Cipher, the original language of the Wyrd, and you have to breathe it before you can speak it." Xander wasn't a musician by trade, but his lycanthropy granted him a primal understanding of frequency. He began to hum - a sound that didn't come from his throat, but from his diaphragm, a "Sub-Vocal Root Note" that vibrated the very floorboards of the hauler. "This is the first note of the Cipher," he explained. "It’s called the Foundation. It’s the sound of the Earth’s rotation, slowed down until it’s audible. You have to match it, not with your ears, but with your marrow."

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.”

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 olive-skinned witch sat in a runic circle of violet-incensed candles, chanting steadily, her voice low and resonant, muttering words in Greek, Gaelic, and Lykubian. Most heartbreakingly, the translucent ghost of the crown prince teetered on the edge of death. A ragged sob ripped from my chest, and I shook my head again and again. My mate laid as still as a corpse. No flesh. No breath. No life. Already gone. “His soul is faintly there.” Marlena, dressed in a black tunic and jeans, paused her craft as I staggered inside. Scattered around her were small relics, three pyramid crystals, and an enormous black book splayed open.

The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy with despair and hatred. In front of the gates, three powerful creatures stood out. To the right, a white Lycan with golden tips in his fur and eyes red as embers. At the center, a witch with flaming hair and shimmering purple eyes. To the left, a great Dracula, with prominent fangs and eyes as black as the night. On the ground, drawn in blood, mystical symbols formed a circle. At the center of that circle, a baby lay wrapped in a cloak adorned with enigmatic engravings. The little one cried in despair as a dagger hovered menacingly above him.

“We believe that they are actually from infected people from the river towns who have fled the Van Helsing attacks and made it to Rideten. My house is full of witches who have done the same, seeking refuge from the Van Helsing cuffs.” “These cuffs,” one of the werewolves started. “Are an invention of Meguitte’s,” Stella announced. “Something originally used to capture Talen Gawaine thousands of years ago. One of the Van Helsings, a man who went by the moniker of Sparrow, was Meguitte’s fated mate, and she gave him the cuff.” “They can be unlocked by saying Thalen Gulgane,” Aislen interrupted nudging Stella under the table and sending her a glare. “We just need to circulate the password, and