Magical Poems Novels & Stories

Magnificent did not even cover it. “They’re absolutely gorgeous. Why would you hide them?” I asked, mesmerized by them. “Because they are part of the poison.” She tried to stand up, but I held her to me. “It’s the poison. It calls to your magic and wants it,” she said. She bit her lip and watched me hesitantly as if it was something she was afraid to admit that to me. How very wrong she was. This was not the poison. It was her magic. Her magic called to mine because of how powerful it was.

The Air magical power is a power of fast and invisible its qualities are projective and temporary. The Fire magical power is a power of Destruction and Active its qualities are fast, hot and projective. And the last magical power element is Water. The power of magical Water is the power of Erosive or Erosion. Its qualities are cold, peaceful and receptive. These are the magical powers of the elements that I need to learn. I move closer to the crystalline to touch them. But, at that moment the magic crystals vanished into the air. Suddenly, I look at Mia and my eyes questioning what happened. She doesn't answer me and yet she holds my hands and after a moment we go back to my room.

She falls into a deep sleep again because of too much pain from her wounds. Liwayway is the queen of the fairies. Her magic is the source of beauty in the whole realm. She tends to mend every broken thing around to maintain its beauty. Her fairies provide beautiful flowers, colorful fruits, mend the wounded trees, grasses, and everything. They provide for the needs of every creature in the forest.

The beauty of nature. Once that was done, she tossed the rabbits away. They scampered off like it was all in a day’s work. “Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t going to shake hands. “You were right.” “Love,” said the Magi. Then she made a circle with her finger and thumb and poked it again. I wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to say, but she obviously knew how to break the spell on Jenny. Could all of the Queen’s spells be broken with a shag, or did it only work if you were in love? Was that what she was trying to say?

Only through the shift of invisible energy. She nodded and smiled. ‘That's how magic is. Invisible, present, and usable for some. It is a form of energy that you cannot see or touch, ‘he further explained. ‘Well, the latter is not entirely true,’ he corrected himself, ‘you can get pretty hit by magic. Literally and figuratively.’ Maddie laughed at that imagery. He could feel her relax again as he tuned in to her. ‘That's the longest story you've ever told in succession,’ said Maddie, and it sounded a little teasing.

her lip quivering as she spoke. "What weapon?" I sounded dumb. "The Knife of Erthyrya. One stab and it takes poofs any individual out of existence." She said without a hint of mockery in her voice. "Sorry, the knife of what now?" I really sound dumb. "Er-thy-ry-a." she ennuciates every sylabol like I was a baby. "It was forged our of a heart of a dragon that consumes all magical essence any person has. And uses that collective power to just zap you out of this world." Luna lets out a heavy sigh.

He recited the poem to Juste and Chastine, all from memory: “root of red, drool of flesh, tall as pillar stem of brown, crown of thorns, revealed on pyre leaf of green, thick of water, at one’s behest petal of white, rise of giants, at peaceful rest seed of black, depths of earth, one in all.” Maxill slowly opened his eyes. He saw Juste and Chastine’s face, who were both amazed and fascinated at Maxill’s recitation of Juste’s mom’s poem. The bloodhunt quickly flicked his finger so the two would break free from their mesmerizing spell.

She, at least, was fertile, even if she was pregnant with a mongrel’s offspring. I had finally had enough and used some of my most potent magic to turn their cries of dissent to cries of agony. Fertile magic can mean a lot of things. Poisonous plants and flowers grow in fertile soil. Fertile minds can create some of the most horrific things that you can imagine.

“I did not imagine you would read poetry.” “What did you think I would be reading?” he asked me, haughtily. “I don’t know. Spell books, I guess.” His lips quirked, as if he were not sure whether to grimace, or laugh. “I am not a mage.” “What are the poems about?” I returned to my task. “The Paragon of Theodghar is set during a fabled war and tells of the battles and events during its last weeks. Its themes include fate, the glory of heroic battle, homecomings, rage and the downfall of pride.”

It didn’t feel scary, it felt powerful. To everyone's surprise, the water in the bowl began to swirl, even though there was no wind. The herbs smoked gently and the crystals glowed faintly. “Barrier of light, barrier of truth,” Mira chanted. “Seal this house, seal this ground. Let no magic cross, let no power pass. Only those of blood and heart may enter.” A sudden gust of wind blew through the yard, though the trees didn’t move. The flames of the candles stayed tall and steady.