Magical Closet Novels & Stories

The door next to it led them to another walk-in closet, they could smell the hint of coffee, Xavier’s closet for sure. The remaining door was a bit bigger, and when the girls entered they gasped. This walk-in closet was enormous with an adjacent room that doubled as a dressing room with mirrors on the walls. Row after row of Jewelry, Tiaras, Crowns, and Purses lined the walls. They turned to stare at their mates. They knew their mates did all this for their future Luna and they were so happy that the Moon Goddess and Poseidon blessed them with these caring and thoughtful men.

Today it looked… eccentric. I pushed the door open without knocking. Purple shirt. Green knickers. Bright. Loud. Almost offensive to the senses. The Mage stood near a cluttered table grinding something that smoked faintly when his pestle touched it. Herbs. Crystals. Things I didn't recognize. The smell was sharp. Medicinal. I stopped in the doorway. "You know," I said dryly, "there are people who would take you more seriously if you tried black cloaks." He did not look up. "And miss the joy of watching their expectations die in real time?"

With a soft, heavy click, the wooden door swung open. Inside, the shelf was filled with old folders and sealed ledger books. But near the back, my eyes caught a small, velvet bag. I pulled it out and opened the drawstring. A wave of cold, heavy magic rolled out of the bag, making the hairs on my arms stand up.

Cian stuffs his hands into his pockets, giving me one last look before going ahead of me. "Immortal freaks," I mutter under my breath, following them toward the small oak door shrouded with fat blooming irises. Hale doesn’t bother knocking, opening the door and stepping inside confidently. We all follow into a small but quaint space, the scent of lilac’s suddenly overwhelming, likely attempting to hide the smell of magic.

He whispered to me, exiting the room. I breathed out some air, cleaning up my room using my magic. In few minutes I was done. I laid on the bed, pulling out mother's note from earlier. I spelled it amongst other books on the nightstand. There's no way the witch could have sensed the magic. While mother box, is safely kept in the only place I can say it's completely safe in, that's Cameron room. He doesn't even know it's there. I smiled, as I kept on reading through the ancient words. Then came a knock on my door... "Come in"

Coren might have shown signs of extreme hatred for witches, but I still don't know if he's ever really seen one. I could make the potion in this room, but I don't want a situation where my plans are exposed before I even have the chance to use them. My wardrobe opens when I glance at it and two items of clothing float out to rest on my bed. The first is a purple dress and the second is a black cloak. The safest place to make the potion is in the woods. Power is always stronger in nature. I change quickly, pulling the cloak over my shoulders while I slip the book of instructions into one of my small bags. I reach for the door but I stop halfway as I remember.... I don't need these doors.

The cloaked witch knocked on the door once before stepping inside with Tor and me right behind her. The inside was lit by short, fat, dripping candles sitting in pools of dried wax. I jumped back into Tor's arms when a white cat bolted past my feet. I let out a nervous laugh as I pulled away from Tor. We stepped further into the dwelling and found Chloe sitting at a round table in a small kitchenette. The walls were covered with the biggest collection of tea cups I had ever seen. There was at least one of every color, shape, and size. In the center of the round table was a beautiful violet kettle that had steam rolling from the spout.

It came again, and this time he met it head-on, driving a spike of magic straight into its chest. The shard in its heart pulsed — once, twice — and shattered. The creature convulsed, a spray of dark blood coating the walls. And then it collapsed. Silence didn’t return right away. The alarm bell still rang, shouts still echoed from other tunnels. But in the small circle around Killian, it was quiet enough for him to hear the sound of footsteps retreating fast — not from the breach, but from the south exit. He looked and caught a glimpse of that same cloaked figure disappearing into the smoke.

At the corner of the room, there was a huge wardrobe slightly opened and a black cloak covered in dusts lying on the floor. April turned as she looked around the room, for some strange reasons, she was getting an ominous feeling about this place. Could it be because this was the evil witch's hut? Was that why she felt so uncomfortable like she was unwelcomed here. That's a given, the hut itself looked strange and odd. The fact that Margaux lived here for years still baffled her. Her gaze moved back to the black pots which looked similar to the big black pot she had seen in her dream. Now that she was staring at the pots, she could not help but think about the strange dream and how she was al

The inside was small but inviting… wooden walls, soft lighting, and a fire crackling lazily in the stone hearth. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, dressed in red and gold, with a scattering of wrapped presents tucked beneath its branches. Garlands laced the mantel, dotted with tiny lights and sprigs of holly, and stockings hung loosely beneath a framed photo of the sea. A wool blanket was thrown over the arm of the couch, and a tray with two mugs of cocoa waited on the coffee table, still steaming. The room felt lived-in, but not cluttered. Just... right. Like warmth made visible.