Horned Serpent Ilvermorny Novels & Stories

Said Professor Dimitrio with a knowing smile. “My name is Dorin Silvius, from Quercus Kingdom. I’m 13 years old, and wish to apply for scholarship to study Magical Defence.” Professor Morell seemed to perk up at the mention of his name. “What is your element, Dorin?” he asked. “My element is wind.” Dorin answered, his eyes looking straight ahead. “How about your lightning magic?” Professor Morell inquired. “Well, I can make sparks...” Dorin raised his hand and made sparks appear from his pinky finger. The examiners did not look impressed.

"Will you make any payment asked of you?" "Yes!" Caroline screamed at the dragon lord. A deep rumbling could be heard, causing the entire academy to shudder as the middle dragon unfurled its mighty form from the mountain of gold. The roar that followed the awakening of the eldest of the triplets was truly deafening and hoping she had done enough the High priestess of Ravenclaw lost consciousness.

The pack members exchanged glances, recognizing the urgency of addressing Elvie's condition. Morgana approached Elvie, her movements purposeful as she initiated a mystical incantation. "Elvie, daughter of the moon, let the veils that bind you be lifted. Return to the essence that defines you." The room became a canvas for the interplay of supernatural forces as Morgana's spell unfolded. A gentle energy enveloped Elvie, and the unnatural calmness that gripped her began to wane. The transformation, a delicate dance between magic and destiny, unfolded as Elvie's true self emerged from the shadows.

“Fight it! Focus on us, on me! ” Blue light exploded from him, mingling with the red of the altar. The symbols writhed, responding to the shard. The shadows screamed. And then… a figure emerged. --- THE TRUE HEART OF THE SERPENT It wasn’t Bishop. Not entirely. The figure was larger, darker, and more terrifying than anything I’d seen. Shadows moved over it like a living cloak. Its eyes glowed amber, burning into my soul. “Riven,” it hissed, its voice like ice cracking over stone. “And Luca… so eager to embrace power you cannot understand.”

“Enough!” Every eye turned to the high platform. The Elder’s gaze cut like steel. His voice thundered like a storm. “Clara—you’ve hidden long enough. But you cannot deceive me. Your blood is not Sinclair’s. You belong to Ravenclaw!”