Gallifreyan Alphabet Novels & Stories

I was immediately silent and recollected myself. "I am sorry my Alpha. There is no news yet. Grey sent me some inscriptions to translate but I haven't been able to. They are in a version of Lycan that I have never seen before." "You are useless Zeph! Utterly useless! Give me a reason why I shouldn't have my guards storm your home and repaint the walls red with your blood." I was terrified but I tried to maintain my composure. "I just need a little more time. I am trying my very best."

Theoretically speaking, one should be able to understand all scripts just by learning the Elysian Script. Of course, the Ancestral Gods had a script of their own — Ancestral Script. This was a script that would materialize with the unique power of the Path. As James studied the Ancestral Script before, he understood the fundamentals. However, he could not recognize the characters he had just written. He was confounded. He was writing about how Thea’s soul was extracted by some Ancestral Gods and refined into the Ancestral God Rank Elixir. But why would the characters change?

Alpha Gary who had already thought of what he was going to do once Levy was under his grasp and the glorious future where even his brother would have to listen to him, completely ignored the danger in front of him. The next moment as he took a step close to Levy, her face had changed. There were a bunch of white glowing inscriptions etched on her skin while her eyes glowed red. She stared at Alpha Gary and whispered, “ Purieris Repellortia.” Alpha Gary frowned at the sudden spell that did not need an array, he thought that Levy was only chanting a spell out of sheer spite but then his eyes rolled back as he stumbled. Before he could stop it, something came surging out of his eyes and as he m

We were silent for a time; the dead needed no words, only our witness. I reached out, brushing my fingers over Seraphine’s tomb. Dust dulled the golden crest carved into the lid, but beneath the grime was something etched deeper—a different language. Draven leaned in. “That’s not Everley runes.” “It’s Draconic,” I replied, my heart racing. The symbols were sharp and angular, so unlike the flowing script I knew. But I could read it—instinctively. “Say it with me,” I whispered, and Draven nodded.

To the absolute shock of the room, Paul stepped forward and executed a deep, submissive bow to Tyrone, uttering a greeting in the ancient High Tongue of the Ferelden Alphas. “Hail, Great Elder,” Paul said. At the sound of the High Tongue, Tyrone finally nodded, his face relaxing into a terrifyingly calm mask.

I’m just so damn proud of him. The scripts beyond were unfamiliar to Talia. Some were written in blood. Others in ash. Some in-flowing symbols that resembled no modern alphabet. Lucian slowed, recognition flashing in his eyes. “Shadowmere runic hybrids,” he murmured. “Hidden royal-coven script.” Obsidian Ridge Back at Obsidian, the comms flared—stone and ward alike briefly translucent. “We’re in,” Jael whispered. Amalia frowned. “No,” she said slowly. “We’re being allowed.”