Romans & histoires Magical Fantasy

At the same time, Hana does not know who put the fake book back in the royal library and can get through Professor Norma's eyes. Hana carefully opened the book cover, each vivid line dancing before her eyes. Hana read the first few pages intently before realizing that all the things she had learned at Scott Hall were junk. Werewolf magic is a type of energy whose qualities are developed based on each person's abilities. The lowest rank of magic is 0, and the highest level is King. It is also said that once the magic is so abundant that the soul dragon is revived, that one is the king of all species.

COPYRIGHT NOTICE This novel is a work of fiction created solely for entertainment purposes. All characters, names, supernatural beings, locations, events, organizations, magical systems, and relationships portrayed within this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictionalized, symbolic, or creative context. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. This work is protected under international copyright law. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, redistributed, uploaded, translated, recorded, transmitted, or stored in any form — digital or physical — without prior written pe

“I would sense the magic if it were so.” I dismounted and unsaddled Coryfe as the mage sat on one of the branches of the fallen tree and drew from a bag he wore under his cloak, a small book, bound in leather, with curls of metal protecting the corners and clasping the covers shut. “We need a fire,” he said to me, his fingers stroking the cover reverently. There was no writing on the cover or binding, but I could see something had been embossed into the leather. Perhaps the embossing was the shadow of writing that had once been picked out with ink, but which time had faded or flaked away.

The girl is gorgeous until she sneers at me, her eyes looking me up and down. "Watch where you are going!" She shouts in the most dramatic way possible. "And what are you wearing? If you are a student, you need to wear the color of your house. Aren't you sorted yet?" "Sorted?" I ask. Two other girls are glaring at me from behind the blonde girl, clearly her little minions. They all wear the same blue cheerleading clothes, and blondie got pointy ears—definitely Fae. "At Magic Academy, there are four houses; each one represents an element—as you can see, we all belong in the house of water. It values beauty, but beauty doesn't seem important to you since you're wearing those clothes."

Then she heard a child’s cry, a baby’s whimper, a husband’s calls, and a woman's screeches. She pulled back quickly touching her heart, "what the hell is that?!" Ena closed the book, exiting a deep sigh, "this book was never written. It wrote itself. What you heard was its ink, the souls it uses to carve each word. It captures every fear. Every last word. The tears that fell from its victims and with that it creates. We call this Soul Magic. The darkest in the world. Not one created, or that was at the beginning of time. No. This is one we created ourselves, one we fuel with our every breath. Do you want to destroy the book? You first must destroy the whole world, for as long as evil desires

AURORA’S POV I couldn’t have imagined such a death even in my darkest fantasy; suspended in the air, surrounded by candles with weird fragrance. My death meant the return of someone very evil. It also meant the death of my little girl. I tried to use my magic but it was all in vain. My body was drained of all strength. Despair had taken root in my heart and had grown like Cuscuta engulfing my heart; draining it of the tiniest bit of hope that was left.

His presence wasn’t loud, yet no one dared speak while he stood. Dressed in rich royal blue, every inch of him screamed regality, right down to his shining leather shoes. He stood before his pact—his chosen allies—not a pack. Enigmas could not hold other Enigmas in a traditional pack. Instead, they formed Pacts: elite alliances of power forged through synchronized pheromones. A ritual of dominance and mutual respect, where two high-ranking Enigmas bind their aura to others, marking them with a bond deeper than blood.

Magical Water: is a water used for purification eg Holy water. Spell book: it contains recipe, spells, incantations for healing and protections. Healing Potions: it's a concoction made to relieve instant pain. it's also made from herbal extracts. Oracle cards: use for divination and gaining insight into the person's condition and the best course of treatment. Magical Fabric: like wool, cotton and silk used for creating healing talisman, poppet or binding spells. and last but not the least... Her Ancient Staff: Her main tool for channeling and focusing her intentions in the Magical glow eminating from the staff.

I raised an eyebrow at his story, still not understanding its relevance. "One day the man and the woman had a baby girl. But this girl was no ordinary girl. She was special," he said, inspecting his nails casually. Then his eyes lifted to mine. "She was one born of magic, and of the moon." Shock ripped through my body at his words, but I schooled my face into neutrality. "And what does this fairytale have to do with me?" I asked. Damion burst out laughing and slapped his knee. Within an instant, he had shoved himself off of the stool and dropped down on his knees in front of me so that we were eye to eye.

The Enchanted Realm's magic, once distant and ethereal, now courses through their veins, a vibrant current that ignites their very essence. With every page turned and every scroll unraveled, the lines between their world and the hero's narrative begin to blur, merging into a mesmerizing mosaic of fate. The Enchanted Realm's history melds with the new character's present, like paint on an artist's canvas, blending colors and stories to form a tapestry that defies the boundaries of time and space. The past and the present intermingle, their stories interwoven in a symphony that carries the echoes of forgotten ages.