Lancelot-grail Novels & Stories

"Do you think you won't die? And when you do, I promise I will find you in hell." Lancelot snorted, "Yeah, that won't happen anytime soon." And how wrong he was, because just a month after achieving his ambition, Lancelot was killed in action, and his soul was sent to hell where Gresha was waiting for him.

Something unusual happened when my fingertips stroked the ancient pages of the grimoire. A slight bulge was hidden on the inside of the lid. I carefully pulled it away, revealing an antique penny below. In my palm, the coin seemed weighty, like if it housed decades of secrets. The name of a location was etched on its surface: "Willowmere." To be honest, I had no idea what inscriptions were etched on this coin. Despite this, I was able to decipher the lettering as if there was some undiscovered supernatural help.

"Thank you, Aunt Cleo. This means a lot to me." The pendant Aunt Cleo gave Aqua was nothing short of mesmerizing. Crafted from sterling silver, the pendant was shaped like a delicate crescent moon, symbolizing the mysterious and potent nature of Aqua's powers. At the center of the crescent nestled a large, oval-cut gemstone that was uniquely clear, like a drop of captured morning dew. The clarity of the stone made it particularly special, as it reflected Aqua's emotional state, changing color with her mood. Intricate filigree work adorned the crescent moon, with tiny symbols and runes etched into the silver, each representing protection and strength. The craftsmanship was exquisite, making i

Lana opens her lips as if to say something, but as if she’s being pulled by strings, her body stiffens, and her eyes go completely black. The hair on my neck rises as Apolliana’s lips curl into a sneer, and she rips the now useless siphon necklace from her neck, “I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, "Come and see!" I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and she was given a crown, and she rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.

But Cassy who had accepted the clothes then grabbed her wrist and she asked her in a small frightened voice, "Am I really The legendary mage?" Carol put her hand on Cassy's and she said explaining to her, "You are a legendary mage, the color of the mark on your breast proves it to us, but it is the fact that this mark is a pentacle that makes you The legendary mage. The mark of the pentacle has only appeared twice since the dawn of time and both times it was when humanity was threatened, not only here in Astoria but in all the worlds in our universe."

[The Tomb] They were safe. Panting, bleeding, they looked at what lay before them. It wasn't a coffin. It was a Laboratory. But not modern. It was Medieval alchemy mixed with... something else. Glass alembics. Bronze gears. And in the center, a massive vessel made of pure gold, sealed with wax and lead. Catherine pointed to the vessel. "The Holy Grail," she whispered. "That is where Arthur found the sample."

"Brenda, you have disappointed me yet again. Apologize to Lilian at once and let her save them!" I let out a cold laugh. "Do yourself a favor and look properly at who's actually committing the slaughter." I took out a clear crystal from my medical kit. This was a Moonstone. It was a crystal that had the most sensitivity to anything that could be considered a catalyst for toxins. "Since you say this is an antidote..." I said as I lifted the Moonstone and tossed it into the small bottle of medicine in Lilian's hand. Lilian's face went instantly pale as she cried, "Don't touch my antidote! It's a gift from the Goddess..."

The girls had chosen this spot for its energy—a natural convergence point where the earth’s magic pooled like water. Freda lit the black candles with a whispered word, their flames burning unnaturally blue. Pru scattered a circle of salt mixed with crushed obsidian, the grains glittering like crushed stars. Rita laid out the parchment—yellowed with age, borrowed from Gogo’s private stash—and the silver dagger, its blade etched with runes. "Ready?" Freda asked. Rita nodded. Pru grinned.

“Sir… are you sure you want to use these people?” Karl didn’t answer. The screen shifted to a 3D-enhanced scan that peeled back earth like gauze. Chambers sequenced into view: vaults and galleries; crate stacks with no markings; bars and coins that history had tried to launder. Light caught on a crown nested in velvet—the Irish Crown Jewels. Another flare like caged lightning—the Florentine Diamond. Near the centre, stretched across a crate like a predator at rest, a compact, unmistakable silhouette:

She looked like she regretted every single life choice that had led her to this moment. “Luna, please. If the king's Lycan smells my scent on this path, he won't just lock you up—he'll exile me to the northern wastes.” “He won't smell anything,” I said, patting my pocket where Madame Lira’s rune stone sat, pulsing with a faint, dampening heat that masked our pheromones. “Move. Before the guard rotation changes.” We successfully arrived at the training hall. It felt colder today, the scent of burning sage doing little to hide the sharp, metallic tang of the stone. Lady Morgana stood behind a long stone table lined with dark glass vials, iron mortars, and dried, twisted roots.