Fata Morgana Book Novels & Stories

The sun had long since set, and the library was now lit only by the warm glow of brass lamps. Piles of rejected books cluttered the tables like tombstones of dead theories. Fennigan reached for the very last book in the stack. It was a crumbling, nondescript tome bound in gray hide that looked like it had survived a fire. The title on the spine had worn away centuries ago. He opened it carefully, the binding cracking in protest. He flipped past pages of ancient genealogy and territory maps until he stopped near the end. His finger traced a faded illustration of a wolf surrounded by symbols of fire, water, earth, and air.

I was alone after all… This was Kian’s room, surely there must be something about him here. I pushed the sheets away and got out of bed. Turning the lamp on, I looked around the room. I can’t believe I never bothered to snoop before. The bookshelves caught my attention. Books, files, notebooks, journals… Oh, Morgana, you had an entire wall with information. I walked over to it, silently running my eyes along the shelf. The Dragon’s Fire… The Song Of Doom… My heart skipped a beat as I realised there were many fiction books here.

Marcel moves closer to her slowly. “I want the same as you, the werewolves out of the witches’ lives. Alaric out of our home, Willow gone and no longer in control! They plan to get the vampires on their side and destroy the Monventla. I am the only person who knows where the book is; the spells are within it.” Marcel nods, sitting down. “What book might that be? The witches lost all of their written manuscripts centuries ago.” He looks at her waiting, Dan still stood on guard.

Aria was about to give up when she heard Morgan call from the other side of the room. She looked over to where his voice came from and rounded various shelves of books. In his hand was a large brown book with gold leaf that had mostly faded. The book was torn at the binding and some pages were slipping loose. Morgan set it down on a nearby table and opened it. On the first page Aria could see was a drawing of a human with what looked like dragonfly wings. What is this? “A book about mystical creatures.” He turned the page, “I’ve never seen this before.”

Suddenly, the book flipped open and the pages began to flutter back and forth. I stood up in shock, knocking my chair over as I did. The sound of the chair clattering against the floor broke Miriam from her thoughts. She grinned as she saw the book, laying open to a page labeled "Hybrids". "Miriam." I sputtered. "What was that? That book just moved and flipped pages on its own. That's not any kind of fae magic I've ever seen." She looked at me, amusement in her eyes. "I told you, it's my book, it responds to me. I'm spirit fae, and while I may not know much about what that means, I do know that I have a connection to dark magic."

asked Kyle. "Yeah, I was just reading this spell which involves the canine teeth and the live seamen of a healthy young Alpha Male werewolf," Both Kyle and I shuddered. "Don't even want to know what the spell is for," "Yeah me neither," I closed the book and put it back on the shelf. I moved down a little more and came upon the dictates of ancient priestess' of Selena. So basically prophecies. I figured why not, and grabbed the whole self and went to a table.

“A price I can pay without losing who I am. A bargain that leaves us both whole.” For a moment, Morgana said nothing, her eyes narrowing as if considering this unexpected turn. The silence stretched, tense and taut. Amelia met the sorceress’s gaze, refusing to be the first to look away. Then, with a suddenness that made Amelia flinch, Morgana’s expression darkened. “You’re a fool if you think you can negotiate with fate,” she said, her voice sharp as breaking glass. “Time grows short for your alpha.” The temperature seemed to drop further, the colors of the smoke intensifying. Amelia clenched her fists, holding on to her last shred of hope. She wouldn’t let the sorceress manipulate her, no m

With both hands, she pulled free a long, heavy book. The leather binding was cracked, its dark surface covered in strange inscriptions—sharp, looping marks that looked less like writing and more like scars cut into flesh. The book was enormous, thicker in a sort of way, its weight alone enough to make her strain slightly as she carried it back. When she set it down on the ancient desk, the air itself seemed to shift—heavier, colder. My eyes locked on the inscriptions carved into its cover. Molly caught me staring and whispered, almost reverent, “It means The Book of Forgotten Truth.”

“You think you’re writing a new chapter, Miss Petrova. But blood remembers. It drags us back.” Anya smiled—sharp and quiet. “I’m not writing a new chapter. I’m closing the book.” She turned to go. But Dasha’s final words stopped her at the threshold: “If you walk away from this name, from me, Milan will rise. And he will not show your daughter mercy.” Anya didn’t look back. Her voice floated like steel over glass: “Then he’ll find out how dangerous a forgotten daughter can be.” She left the conservatory without another word.

Morrigan noticed how Colfre felt uncomfortable with her standing in front of him so she walked towards her bed and sat down on the soft mattress. “I guess my inquiry is a hard one to answer especially you get to know me and this palace grounds when it was all dull and lifeless. Then I will tell you a story less known by the citizens of Hymir… A story only one person in this kingdom knows about.” Morrigan patted the spot beside her. “This will be a long story and I’m afraid you’ll strain yourself even before the story ends. Come,” She invited him. She could notice how Colfre’s muscles tense and relax under his black inner clothes. She couldn't help but smile at the back of her mind. She reach