Romans & histoires Dark Spells Harry Potter

HIS DARKEST SECRETS CHAPTER 59 ***** Sanctify saw herself in a dark forest with loud chippings and horrifying sounds which became louder at every step she took. Surprisingly she wasn't fazed or scared about anything as she boldly walked with a particular sense of direction and blood lust taking over her. What's working with her? She couldn't tell, it was as if she was being hypnotized with a force that can't be denied as she went nearer to her prey, a sharp dagger in her left hand as her long dark clothes danced freely from the impact of the air.

Well, at least I finally got something I can do as a mage, right? Water splintered like glistening crystals as I turned and followed the rhythm with precision. I closed my eyes as I continued on my track, there was another smooth splash. Once again, I turned and leaped a little, then faced the audience and opened my eyes. I thought I'd see my expectants watching me in awe. But to my surprise, my line of vision was directed to a pair of unfamiliar pitch black eyes, the darkest shade of black I've ever seen in my whole life.

Taking the subtle route was going to fail me in a matter of seconds. "That is Zhara Shunah, you fucking idiots!" Upon hearing the men behind me, I ripped into the abyss. Black daggers flung themselves through the gate and impaled two of the three men. Where they were clad in armour, my shadows curled and dissipated. But their throats were still exposed. The tall man watched in horror as his two companions gurgled on their own blood, but I didn't have enough time to watch them bleed.

The problem I’m having is this: If I allow myself even the slightest bit of wiggle room for the veracity of Father Ward’s story in this journal, the door is opened wide for all sorts of other things. Like a child-devouring demon named Moloch or Baal. An odd yellow taxi and odder coins bearing a strange design popping up all over town. A ghostly boy maybe born of a man’s deep pain and self-loathing. A strange place called Carcosa—with black skies and even blacker stars—where it seems lost people go when they’ve nowhere else. Someone or something named Hastur (a name which runs cold shivers down my spine even thinking it).

Yvonne watched from the side of his eyes as he focused on the Dark Mages instead of Mira. And then they started chanting, the hollows in their eyes twinkled with spark straight from hell. "Zyrrak'thul na'khar!...(Summon the shadows!) Draek'vorn noctril!...(Darkness shall reign!) Vor'thul shadranek...(Power of the abyss.) Mal'zarnok enshar...(Blood of the fallen.) Nythorak krysth'gar!...(Unleash the torment!) "

With trembling lips, he said, “That’s dark magic… the spell that you also used to cancel our ultimate group enchantment. That is also dark magic.” Seeing the farthest corner of the room, Diana’s grin became even brighter and wider. Slowly, though her knees continued to lose their strength, she stood up straight and sauntered to the frozen warlocks. She opened her palm. On cue, the wisp of black mist swirled around it when it was supposed to attack its next victim. “You enjoyed torturing others, right?”

Oran’s cock was nothing compared to this monstrous thing. There is no way that is going to fit in my mouth. I stared at it, lips parted, breathing fast. A mix of fear and filthy excitement twisted in my belly. “What’s wrong, Mother?” Soren asked, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He stared down at me like a Greek god looking at a lowly mortal, silver eyes narrowed with pleasure and hips curled in a smirk. I licked my lips, trying to find words, but he grabbed the thick base of his cock and stepped closer until the heavy, throbbing head was just inches from my face.

Instantly, all eyes shifted from me to the newcomer. The warriors and the small crowd of onlookers immediately turned and bowed deeply as the man approached. Lifting my eyes, I saw a young man with an air of undeniable charisma. His spiky brunette hair, square jaw, and deep blue eyes exuded a quiet strength. Despite his imposing presence, I found it hard to believe he could be the Dark Lord. Beside him stood a younger boy, whose face seemed like it had been meticulously sculpted to perfection, radiating a similar aura of authority.

Before I knew what was happening, I was being pushed to the side by Christopher, as he says, “Don’t look at her. She is possessed.” “Possessed by what?” Charles asks as he steps far away from the cell next to him. “Dark magic.” Christopher tells him, and he slowly lowers the hood from his cloak, revealing his face, and I couldn’t help but stare at him, as I was right about how young he looked, but what caught my eye was the darkness in his own eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that his darkness was hunger, and that hunger was for whatever had a hold of Heather at this moment.

The old man let out a agonizing shriek as the Shadow-Wraithpoison began to rot his spiritual lines from the inside out. Amora stood between her twins, her hands pressing them firmly into the corner behind Susan’s crossbow. Her emerald eyes took in the entire horrific scene. Henry was suffocating under the dark magic, his skin turning a sickly gray, while Barbara wept, unable to break free from the shadow pinning her to the wall. Duncan was still on his knees, his gray eyes fixed on his parents. "Mother... Father..." He tried to crawl forward, but a sudden spasm of pain shot through his chest, forcing him to vomit another splash of dark blood. His core was a ticking time bomb.