Magical Books Novels & Stories

Livi asked me with a curious expression. "Well, there's no specific reason. I just wanted to buy them," I replied. "What's with that answer? It doesn't make sense at all." For now, I didn't want to tell Livi the reasons why I bought multiple books on magic with various elements and about some of the skills I possessed. After a while, the books I ordered finally arrived. There were ten books brought to me, including a basic book on magic and books on various magical attributes. "These are the books you requested. Please check them," the attendant said, handing over the books to me.

I’m the only student in the entire university who’s allowed to just take these books off the shelf, and the strange library knows that. The library has the same kind of magic as my cousin Kenna’s castle in Veiled Valley. It’s alive. I turn with a tome about magic communication in my hand and watch hundreds of books zooming in a spiral against the turns of the staircase at the center of the library, sorted by magic. But as I pick through the racks back to my usual table, I spot someone else there. “Oh, thank the Goddess,” I rush out, slamming my book down in front of Georgia, who jostles at the noise, choking on her iced coffee.

It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and with every passing minute, the urgency only grew. But then, as I was about to give up for the night, something caught my eye—a small, weathered book tucked away on the bottom shelf. Its cover was faded, the title barely legible, but there was something about it that drew me in. I carefully pulled it from the shelf, the pages brittle and yellowed with age. The title read, *The Lost Chronicles: A History of the Ancient Magics*. My heart raced as I opened the book, scanning the pages for anything that might be relevant. It wasn’t long before I found a section that made my breath catch in my throat.

As I opened the yellowed pages, a piece of paper slipped out, as I bent over to retrieve it I knocked over a tower I had built with books. Sending books hurling over with speed down to the sleeping librarian. Just then, a soft, pulsing glow began to emanate from a shelf in the library. A shimmering thread appeared, weaving itself around the books, binding them firmly in place. The thread seemed to be made of pure light, and it pulsed with a purely magical energy. I could feel the magic coursing through the air, a warm, comforting sensation that seemed to fill the whole library. The thread seemed to settle into place, and the books remained perfectly still as if frozen in time.

He insisted on going there with me, so I let him. I spent hours going from one book about magic to the next. There was no other way to describe what was happening. It was magic, simple. “What are you doing?” I heard Alpha Moretti call out, making me jump in my skin. I slammed the book I was holding closed, although there wasn't any need for that considering the numerous books that were sprawled out on the table with their titles on display. His eyes settled on the biggest book there, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment. “The Art of Magic,” the topic read.

Rita The air in the hidden wing of the library was thick with the scent of aged parchment and something deeper—magic, old and restless. Rita trailed her fingers along the spines of the grimoires, each one humming under her touch like a sleeping beast. "This one," Derek murmured, pulling a heavy tome bound in cracked leather. "It’s been calling to you since we walked in." Rita took it, the moment her skin met the cover, a shudder ran through her.

I mumbled with a full mouth. "There's extra in there. Let's keep moving." We turned the corner into another street lined with low brick buildings. One had a dusty window and a sun-faded sign that read Dog-Eared Pages. "This place is a little gem," Robbie said. "If you ever want to read up on modern stuff written for wolves from the old packs—this is where to do it. They even have books on magic you won't find in human shops." That piqued my interest immediately, but—

The priestess was startled. “I have deduced that those warriors you met earlier possess four magic books in their bodies,” Gargamel said. “One is said to be able to become a God by gathering five magical books. The Torment Manuscript is about to be born. The rest of the magic books will follow the trend and show up here. Now, they are here.” “Follow the trend?” The priestess didn’t quite understand. “So, those people I met have come here for the manuscript?” “Bingo! They must have come from the outside world for the manuscript,” Gargamel said with a nod. “But how are they going to be able to rival our master’s might given his strength in the Mammet Realm? They

she begged for a chance to see a magical book. "Sure," he said and opened his palm. A worn-looking brown booklet magically materialized in his palm. He put the booklet in her hands. "If you can read magic spells, maybe you still have a chance to learn magic," he said. "However, if you don't have magical blood in your body, you will get a headache trying to read the words," he added. Clarice flipped through the pages, attempting to read the words, but she couldn't make sense of the ancient writing no matter how hard she tried. The more she tries to understand them, the more they appear blurry to her eyes.

Every story has a beginning, some good, some bad, mine has never been a happy one, no matter who, or how I tell it, nobody will believe me. I can't rely on the people in my life, My parents ignore me, or are cruel to me, my friends are unreliable, and aren't trustworthy either. So what happens when I turn 16 years old, and run away from my problems to another world, only to find myself in the same magical world I played make belief in as a kid? With heartbreak at every turn, and a possible new relationship on the horizon, what could possibly go wrong in this world that hasn't happened to me on Earth?!