Magical Lyrical Novels & Stories

I was the changeling, I thought, dazed, as his words began to make sense. A siren changeling. My voice had magic. A different sort of magic to the sharp, bitter metallic tang of the mages. I possessed the sort of magic that lured ogres to sleep when lullabies were sung, and mages to spill their seed when I cried out in pleasure.

Slowly but surely, they began to overpower Arthur, their combined might proving too much for even his dark magic to withstand. "Lyra, now!" Dorian urged, his fire-lit eyes blazing with fierce determination. "Finish this!" With a final burst of radiant energy, Lyra released the full force of her newfound powers, flooding the battlefield with brilliant golden light. The golden light illuminated every crevice of the battlefield, casting long shadows that danced and flickered like flames. Arthur's once-imposing figure seemed to crumble beneath the intensity of Lyra's power, the cold arrogance in his eyes replaced by a desperate fear that clawed at the edges of his resolve.

"And how are you going to be your best version? I mean, what do you see in your best version? Is she a mean girl? If yes then don't be it. You don't have to act tough to be your best version, I promise." "It's not. Let me tell you my vision of how I want to be. I will walk into a room like I own it. I will say thank you to everyone for the tiniest help. I will thank the waiter/waitress for bringing me food. I will thank the driver for driving me to my destination. I will thank my assistant for bringing me my documents. I will praise everyone for their efforts. I will smile when I want. I will stay true to myself. I don't have to appear mysterious or cold to be unapproachable. I don't have to

Arielle said. "She wasn't broken. She was sabotaged." "You have a rat in your castle, Lycian." "Someone who curses children." Lycian’s expression darkened. The gold in his eyes turned to molten lava. "Show me." "Show me the signature of the curse." Arielle held up her hand. A remnant of the silver energy floated in her palm. "Do you recognize this magic?" Lycian stepped closer. He sniffed the silver wisp.

Candles lit on every corner of it with carvings made into different empty spots that it had. I didn’t recognize the inscriptions so I couldn’t determine which particular ritual this was but Mom and Dad seemed to be mystified by it. “Now. Seff and Lycia step into the center and hold onto each other tightly. The magic might try to pull you apart but do not let go,” Lars said with a smile, “We cannot let anything obstruct this magic as this is a very high level one and if harmed adversely it may even blow up this whole place.” “Should we be performing such risky magic then?” I asked fearing for my family’s life. That wouldn’t be worth it if in the end we only got hurt by it.

“Not again.” This is the fucking third time this week. Doesn't she fucking give up? My wolf circles hard. Fast. Hackles up. “This is not her.* “What do you mean, not her?” I hiss back as I pull on my jacket and shove my feet into boots. “Not Lyra. Too different.’ “I see. Still, an attack is an attack.” “Too loud. Too sloppy. It burns. So messy." I pause with my hand on the door because he is right. I can feel it now. The magic is wrong. It scratches instead of slicing clean. It is everywhere at once and nowhere useful.

Unseelie magic tided over the stadium with the force of tsunami coming into shore. I flinched bodily, partly from visceral disgust and partly from astonished admiration. The lyrics rolled, just that one lonely voice, flowing into the dark. It was gorgeous—darkly, silkily, deeply gorgeous. And the magic inside of it was scathing, seething, like ripe rot and h*llish heat wrapped in chocolate.

The others dropped to the ground, writhing, screaming, clutching their heads. Even Kael felt it. The magic was ancient. It wasn’t just Hollowed or Guardian. It was something older. Primordial. Lyra stood now, arms outstretched, her body outlined in ghostlight. “Leave,” she said, her voice her own again—but deeper, calmer. “Or I’ll erase you.” The Hollowed leader staggered to his feet. “This power… it will consume you.” “I’ll decide what consumes me.” He vanished into the woods, the others crawling after him.

There was no way I was going to be locked up for the duration of whatever sentence that would be passed, and my only way out was by magic. Virtually all accusers know of my gifts and they would not let it slide. If Xavier kept mute about it, Lucas would definitely not. I wasn't going to take that risk. “Lyra,” my grimoire brought to my attention. “I just thought about her and I have a plan,” I said, feeling my pockets for the rosemary I had. I was going to amplify its magical properties to enable her to keep her memory and knowledge of my abilities and gifts in magic.

Possessing straight black hair and captivating emerald green eyes, my appearance might qualify as beautiful, particularly given my well-proportioned physique but according to Mag, I’m concealing essential parts of myself. But what can I do? I’m employing every possible strategy to divert attention from myself so I have to be as ordinary as I can be. “Oh, those bitches! Even their wolves run like sissies!” Maggie remarked as she stared at the field. I could only laugh and shake my head. Mag joined me on the bench and began her usual character. “You won’t believe it, but Lyra still hasn’t found her mate. She’s practically buzzing with excitement, thinking that Alpha Lancelot might be the one.”