Magic Wand Stories Novels & Stories

“How the fuck?!” Smiling, I walk over to him and throw my arms around him. He slowly hugs me back. “Mazy! You just walked through a wall!” “I know!” I laugh. “How?” I shrug. “I’m a white wolf. All the stories Gran told us are true. The Goddess gifts the white wolves with powers, some with one or two or hundreds. My gifts are well. Let’s go with many.” He grins broadly, all despair washed away. “We can leave now.”

"Then how do you know what she looks like?" Bailey smiled as she looked down and then back into my eyes, wrapping her arms around her knees. "That's right. I forgot that you haven't heard the stories." A crease formed between my eyes. "What stories?" She shrugged. "The stories of our people." She sighed as she looked out over the stones but saw a time long ago, a time far away. "Long ago, two children were walking in the forest. Night fell, and they became lost. A black wolf came, and the children shivered, sure that they were about to become a meal for the black wolf. But then a huge white wolf came and scared off the black wolf. When he was gone and the children were safe, the white wolf t

Chapter 50 Subtitle: drowning in sorrows. A fairy wand? That was when it hit Alice that she was a fairy without a magical wand! Well she wasn't any regular fairy was she? "I dont have one, i'm pretty exhausted, I can only make the bleeding stop and use my powers to patch up his wounds, I can also reduce the pains and mend his broken bones, but we will need some herbs to make the pain go away and heal him completely, we could wait till we retrieve the sword and then go back home to treat him but he may not be able to travel with us and leaving him behind is like leaving him to his death, the hungry beasts would be so happy to feast on him."

“Being a witch is more than just waving your wand around.” Mistress Sungul would always say, her own wand poised between her fingers. “We are what mages dream to be. We are what priests fear.” It was almost like a mantra. As Sungul leisurely paced around the room, soaking in my blank stares and gazing at the mist that oozed from her wand, she would repeat herself. Sometimes muttering so low that I had to strain to hear her. Usually, she was boisterous, loudly jabbering on about our roles as witches.

At least you're good at something old man. She raised her hands upward and stamped her feet on the ground thrice. The color of her eyes changed and it seemed like fire literally burned in her eyes with so much intensity. The witch hunter, Hundzai, moved backwards and said some inaudible words, after which he pointed his magic wand at Marline. Marline swiftly swung her too and pointed it at Hundzai. After so much struggle from the hunter and the hunted, the hunter staggered back and fell due to the force from Marline's magic wand.

She showed me how to make the story come alive, how to make it breathe, how to make it matter. I wove and wove, my paws moving through the threads with growing confidence. Finally, the story was complete. I looked at the Story Weaver. "What now?" "Now you share it. You tell it to the wolves of Silvermoon. You let it become part of their existence." I gathered the wolves in the great hall. "I have woven a new story," I said. "A story about love. A story about endurance. A story about the connections that bind us together."

“Arms over the backrest. Wrists together.” I obeyed. Her tail immediately lashed around both wrists, binding them to the chair’s carved spine so tightly I could feel my own pulse hammering against the leather. Then she knelt in front of me, spread my knees wide with her hands, and secured my ankles to the front legs using thin black cords that materialized from thin air—silky, unbreakable, enchanted. I was spread open, dripping, completely at her mercy. She stayed crouched between my thighs, studying my pussy like it was a sacred text. One clawed finger traced the outer lips without parting them.

The trees, the floor, the houses, and the flowers—I stared at them all. Wizard Ezra is a man who speaks of power and authority. Each step he takes or leaves behind is seen as a legacy. A lot of people worship and adore him, and we all grew up hearing his wonderful stories and adventures. Stories like how he saved his people when werewolves attacked the coven and fortress, stories like how he destroyed a thousand soldiers without moving an inch from where he sat, how he used his blood for sacrifice just to protect his people, and a lot more that every witch knows of.

The day our family went on vacation to an island resort, my younger sister, Alana Fisher, climbed over a safety railing to get the perfect photo. She lost her footing and, in her panic, dragged me into the ocean with her. The rescue crew was about to pull me out first since I was closer when Mom suddenly took a yellowed paper coupon from her wallet and tossed it toward me. "Corinne, let Alana get on the rescue boat first! This is the last thing your father and I will ever ask you to grant!" When I was seven, I couldn't afford birthday presents for my parents, so I drew a hundred wish coupons by hand. Each one read: [Redeem this coupon for one wish. Corinne has to say yes, no matter what.

She falls into a deep sleep again because of too much pain from her wounds. Liwayway is the queen of the fairies. Her magic is the source of beauty in the whole realm. She tends to mend every broken thing around to maintain its beauty. Her fairies provide beautiful flowers, colorful fruits, mend the wounded trees, grasses, and everything. They provide for the needs of every creature in the forest.