Finite Incantatem Novels & Stories

With it I discovered a spell to summon the king of the crossroads. With the blood of a crow, I drew a wide circle on the ground, marking a boundary. I poured salt into a bowl, staining it with my blood. Next I added into the bowl the crushed skull of crows. All this was required for my summoning spell to work. I began chanting. "Impericus livicúm omnis ímmúndus no spiritus infernaus satanica fer reh nahi…" I chanted in old greek tongue, lighting up a single match stick and dumping it into the bowl.

I focused all my will and intent on channeling this power to my fellow witches, infusing them with the strength they needed to face the lycan threat. As the incantation reached its crescendo, a wave of energy radiated from me, enveloping my coven in a shimmering aura of power. I could sense the transformation taking place within them, the subtle shift in their essence as the magic worked its way through their beings. It was a moment of unity, of shared purpose and shared strength, binding us together in a common cause.

I looked up at Summer's triumphant face, then at Cade. "Is this apology good enough?" Cade's chest rose and fell heavily for a while, then he cleared his throat. "I'm glad you've repented. Go mourn your mother for me." After saying those superficial words, he wrapped his arm around Summer's slender waist and turned back to continue the celebration. Amidst laughter and chatter, guests whispered amongst themselves. "No wonder Mr. Finley wouldn't touch her. Her heart is foul. That's why intimate photos of her leaked the other day."

Beneath the thin fabric, her full breasts rose and fell rapidly, pink nipples stiff from the cold night air and forbidden excitement. She had come here to gain power. Revenge against the family that disowned her. Knowledge that the church had denied her. The ancient grimoire she stole from the restricted archives lay open before her, its pages stained with old blood. With shaking hands, she completed the circle of black candles and crushed bones. Her voice echoed as she recited the forbidden incantation, mixing Latin with words that burned her tongue. “…By the blood of the fallen, by the seed of the abyss, I summon thee, Azrathor, Lord of the Infernal Flame. Come forth and grant me thy power

I immediately positioned myself in the middle of the pentagram near the piles used by the bereaved we would call. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment and felt nature especially when the wind was blowing around then I opened my eyes again. I took the dagger and then wounded my palm so I frowned in pain then I dripped on the tools at the same time pronouncing the incantation. "Da mihi orationis caelum et terram Audi vocem meam dicuntur ab inferno animos suos nobiscum loqui Sive dicas! Sive dicas!"

I snarled at him. A few dark witches step forward, they are looking at me with contempt. They surround me and start chanting, "Audite me custodes vacui nunquam lucidi, hanc creaturam tenebrarum sumite, et illum in regno vestro per omne eternum cape." (Hear me, guardians of the never clear void, Take this creature of darkness, and trap him in your realm for all eternity)

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he offered his half bottle and I knew we were even. I wasn’t planning on getting drunk but I took it with delight and chunked it down. Jed chuckled, “Okay, what’s bothering you?” The engagement party was part of my problem. Aunt Lucy and her eagle eyes was one, Juliet gets on my nerves, and then there was Cheryl. Sweet innocent Cheryl. “I don’t know man. I don’t want any of this. I can’t even stand Juliet, she is like this annoying kid that I can’t get out of my hair.”

With meticulous care, he arranged the components in a precise pattern on the smooth surface, his movements fluid and practiced despite the urgency of the situation. I watched in awe as he muttered incantations under his breath, the words flowing forth with a melodic rhythm that seemed to fill the room with a palpable sense of magic. Each syllable resonated with power, weaving together to form a spell of unparalleled complexity and potency. As the incantation reached its crescendo, Alpha Gonzales sprinkled a handful of shimmering powder over the assembled reagents, the air crackling with energy as the spell began to take shape. I held my breath, anticipation coursing through me as I waited to

I set it down and put the lid on it, trapping the smoke inside. The flames on the candles around us grow taller, holding steady despite the wind. I unfold my own piece of paper and flick my eyes up to the other witches. Giving a tiny nod to signal the start of the spell, we all begin chanting at the same time. “Invoco te Hecaten dea noctium. Offerimus tibi ipsi, et quod sanquis et vinum donum. Spiro vitam in mortuis. Eum cito pallium, ne transire copulare quodam vivos magis.”