Gallifreyan Writing Novels & Stories

My first thought after reading the damn content was: holy fuck. It was written in Phanteon language; used indelible ink from Sattus, and it was embued with fairy-like dust from the first full moon of the kingdom. This meant all the words on the parchment were absolute and irreversible. Signed by my father during the creation of Phanteon, it told about all werewolves and lycans bound by an unseen force of the Universe. Through the moon, this force manifests in the form of a crescent mark on the wrists of two destined people.

“This is the last time I ask. Give us the werewolf or tonight will be your last.” “No,” Gail said with more confidence than she felt. With a deep breath, she called her magic forth. It flooded through her, and she focused on the spell she had done that filled the glass ball with darkness. She hoped it was some kind of blindness spell. The words burst from her. “Thus rises the goddess, borne upward through a silent world, now birds and beasts are hushed, and steals the greedy cares of men and beasts to sweet oblivion.”

This must be his formal regalia, the dress of the Shadowwalker Magus, created from the void and his own body woven together into something new. “Jana,” he sighs, as ember-tipped words burn themselves onto the hems of his robes, writing the names of stars in truespeak, the language of the void, turning his cloak into a living star map. “I am so sorry. I failed you.” “I’m not Jana,” I remind him quietly. “I’m Carnelia, I mean Stella. Remember.”

Mae questioned suspiciously. Blaze gave her a soft look in an attempt to calm her suspicion. “Our grandmother gifted us with a book that she claims is older than this world. It’s in a strange language and most of it is not translated. One of the few translations is the word ‘priores’ above drawings of fourteen red-eyed beings. It’s Latin for forefathers, also referred to as—“

Where was she heading with all these questions? Piano. One more. Yellow or navy blue? Navy blue. Gwenevere shook her head. “This is total opposite of me. Man, it’s gon’ take some time to understand you.” She continued to type into her phone. I’m pleased to tell you Mykel, that you are a Melancholy. Williams closed one of his eyes. What? What was that? Didn’t melancholy mean sad? Are you saying I’m a sad person? Gwenevere tapped her chin with her fingers.

The subterranean silence of the lower Citadel vaults offered no comfort. Deep beneath the bustling war rooms where Lord Caelen maintained perimeter watches, the ancient archival wing lay bathed in the cold, flickering blue light of runic lanterns. I sat at a massive stone reading desk, surrounded by decaying leather grimoires, crumbling parchment maps, and heavy slate tablets recovered from the deepest recesses of the fortress. Beside me, Elder Varis stood on a step-stool, carefully translating a faded text written in Old High Wolf runic script.

He plopped them down in my lap. They smelled musty and looked ancient. I opened the top one: vellum pages, elaborate hand-inked script, illuminated pictures- it looked like a medieval grimoire. I read their faded spines: “'THE SECRETIVE HISTORIE OFE DAEMONS AND FEY, bye LORD SAMMAEL MALKIRA.' 'An Inquiry Into the Heavenly Spheres; or, the Spiritual Realms: A Treatise by Dr. Mephistopheles.' 'The Idiot's Guide to Hell- by Aym the Disgruntled, upon Threat of Blackmail by Samael the Git.” I looked at him questioningly, holding the first one. “You wrote this? The handwriting's indecipherable,” I observed, examining the spidery script, “and apparently you have no idea what a dictionary is.

“We’re being allowed.” She went still, reverent. “Goddess… the history.” Jael’s breath caught. “Forbidden histories.” One crystal pillar pulsed. Not gently. Urgently. I know this writing. Kaela surged. The words slammed through Talia’s mind like a breaking wave. She gasped, grabbing for Lucian as ancient light flared in her pupils. “I know this writing!” Kaela growled aloud, on the verge of a partial shift. Sera stiffened.

Liam’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I shifted my position in the chair so that I was facing him. Real animals were never part of the tests, as we used alternative methods for experimentation. It was something I adamantly refused to consider. We combined werewolf blood and our female blood to create small, fierce beasts. The legend spoke of a mysterious creature called Gwyllwolf that could only be created by combining our blood with certain other substances, known only to my scientists.

Lyra said, her sapphire eyes fixed on the glowing text in the sky. WOULD YOU LIKE TO START THE SECOND BOOK? The words were not written in ink or starlight. They were etched into the very fabric of their "Being." To Kaelen, standing at the edge of the courtyard, the prompt was a vibrating chord that resonated in his "Genesis" marrow. He saw the "Grey Lines" of the Architects turning into "Golden Threads" of a new, higher-level contract.