Magical Lyrical Novels & Stories

she presses, “then it has to be a good thing, doesn’t it?” “Imagine how much power it would take to accomplish something like that,” I say. “Greed and magic don’t go well together.” She picks up a stick. “Can I show you something?” she asks. “Don’t do it, Lyra,” Cassian says sharply. “You don’t know what might happen.” But Lyra’s already drawing in the dirt. She sketches out three sigils, and I lean over to study them in the moonlight. “Do you know what these are?” she asks.

I can’t smell or sense any wolves. But then, I didn’t sense Leila sneaking up on us either. Bryce has some of the most powerful magic wielders I’ve ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. I still have absolutely no idea how the fuck we’re going to kill any of them. “Where are the other little ones?” Lyric asks the girl. The girl takes a tentative step towards us, drawn by the sound of a woman’s gentle voice. A mother.

I couldn’t imagine him protecting me, cherishing me. "Now," Lyra said, clapping her hands together, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "will you come do the little magic you do to bloom new beautiful flowers? I love that one." I forgot my worries for a moment, caught up in the familiar comfort of her presence. I closed my eyes, focused my energy, and channeled the latent power that pulsed beneath my skin. It was a gift, a burden, a secret I guarded fiercely. A warm tingle spread through my fingertips as I touched the wilting lily, and a new bud, plump and vibrant, unfurled before my eyes.

She gasped as she looked up to me. “Flowers. Moon flower.” “You’ve been bewitched.” I tilted my head. “It’s a spell that works based on a scent.” Lyra said. “Explain.” I tightened my grip on her hand. “Unless it breaks.” Lyra’s eyes darted to her hand and back to my face. Her black shaded lips were barely parted, revealing perfect teeth and a lush tongue. “It’s a spell. It is cued by a particular scent. Why else would she smell like that even though she never has strawberries around?”

he muttered, earning a quiet laugh from Ria and Alisha as well. Liam crossed his arms, a faint threat of a smile tugging at his lips “Magical words, Sharon?” he asked dryly. Sharon lifted her chin haughtily, voice dripping with mock grandeur “Yes, magical words. The ancient, sacred incantation that must be spoken before I lift a single finger to help you tomorrow.” Liam exhaled slowly, playing along “All right then, oh mighty warrior, what ancient words must I utter to unlock your infinite wisdom?”

"It's… happy." The man Kael came too, drawn by the unfamiliar sounds and lights. He stood in the shadows, watching Lyra transform the stark hall into a place of subtle, living beauty. He saw the moss-light, the glowing flowers, the look of rapt concentration on Lyra's face. He saw Liora watching, her eyes full of pride and love, not power and control. He saw a different kind of magic. A magic he had never understood and had always dismissed as sentiment.

Lyra The world explodes into chaos around me. Vega's attack tears through our ritual circle, sending waves of dark energy crashing against the fragile silver light of our partially formed bond. Pain rips through me, both from the magical assault and from feeling Alexander's agony echoing through our connection. Beside me, Kieran's hand tightens on mine, his face determined despite the dangerous magic swirling around us. "Hold on to each other!" Queen Sage shouts above the chaos. "Don't break the circle!"

I have no plans to bear the asshole Lycan king a child! “That’s one less thinking head on the military then,” General Delacroix remarks. “The skirmishes, are they mostly werewolves?” I ask, pretending to know nothing. “You should know better,” one of the generals snaps, and I take a deep breath to stop myself from snapping back at him. “Well, in that case… You’ve seen me use a sleeping spell during the Luna Festival, right?” “Yes, but we don’t have a massive magical reserve like you.” “That’s why we are creating magical tools? To compensate for the lack of magic, isn’t that right?”

Their eyes met, close enough to see the tears she wouldn’t let fall. “Don’t make me your enemy,” he hissed. Her voice broke. “Then save us another way.” Behind them, guild fighters lunged for Daryl. Killian’s free hand lashed out, magic bursting like a wave. Shadows struck the floor, flinging the men backward into tomb walls, shattering stone coffins. Bones clattered, monks’ skulls rolling across the floor. The crypt filled with chaos. Through it all, Daryl rose. Not fully — not humanly.

Pru grinned. One by one, they pressed their palms to the parchment. The paper hummed under their touch, absorbing their magic like ink. Freda went first, carving her name in elegant, looping script. Pru followed, her letters sharp and angular. Rita hesitated, then wrote hers with a flourish, the parchment warming beneath her fingers. Freda picked up the dagger. "Blood seals the bond. No going back after this." "No going back," Pru agreed. Rita held out her hand. "Do it."