Magical Workings Novels & Stories

Maerilee The dog treat trembles in my hand, faint pulses of magic swirling around it like threads of silver. I close my eyes, focusing on the barrier I’m trying to create. The energies stretch from my fingertips, encasing the treat in an invisible shield, or at least what I hope is an invisible shield. My breath slows as I concentrate, willing the magic to hold steady. A faint hum tickles the back of my mind. My magic is attempting to do what it’s supposed to but deep down, I can feel how weak it is, how flimsy the barrier must be.

I wipe my tear with a finger. My mate is such a child; he can be protective, a playful pup, romantic in the wrong place, fearful, and emotional in a day. The rest of my life will never be boring. I saw Acro walking around the two and when she stretched her neck to squint at me, I lifted my thumb. What's more powerful than magic is words—a power that can soften the corrupted heart. Later on, one of the spellbooks levitates and the pages flip on their own.

A second wave of magic rose from the witches, this one more delicate but no less powerful. Lyra watched as High Priestess Seraphina lifted her hands, fingers moving in intricate patterns. Ancient symbols carved themselves into the air, glowing with golden fire, their very presence vibrating in Lyra’s bones.

My skin prickles with awareness, light magic responding to the ancient energies surrounding me. Blue-white tendrils of power curl from my fingertips unbidden, reaching toward the nearest trees like curious vines. Rather than fearing this manifestation, I watch with fascination as my magic interacts with the orchard. Where my light touches bark, the hidden runes carved there flare briefly to life, answering my power with their own.

Seraphina listened attentively as I poured out my story, my struggles, and my desperate need for answers. With a gentle nod, Seraphina began to weave her magic. She closed her eyes and murmured words that felt ancient and sacred, her hands moving gracefully as if guided by unseen forces. I watched in awe as the room seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, as if the very fabric of reality was bending to accommodate the mystical powers at play.

Mother of earth what was I to do here? Instead of calling me out like I'm sure he wanted to do, he said. “So how does it work? I’ve met witches, but no one like you.” “Well, that's because there's nobody like me, most witches have to expend a lot of energy to pull energy from their surroundings, I just will it and it complies. Elemental magic doesn't weaken me more than a brisk walk if I'm doing something big. You take the energy of the elements around you and will it, to do something else” I said with a shrug. I flicked my thumb across my fingers and 4 tiny tufts of flame ignited in front of me as I continued. He eyed them wearily. I willed them to go out and they fizzled out and disappeare

The moment the blood touched the soil, it pulsed faintly, as though sensing the power coursing through me. With a sharp motion of my wrist, I began weaving the spell. My hand moved gracefully, tracing intricate patterns in the air above the blood. The magic felt raw and alive, a current of energy that surged through my veins as I focused my intent. A tendril of light rose from the blood, swirling upward like smoke caught in a phantom breeze. It expanded outward, reaching through the fabric of the world as if seeking Andromeda’s essence.

Havermouth, Present Time Magic was in its very nature an invisible thing. You did not see a spell cast, but rather the effects of the spell once it found its victim. Therefore, the warlock Leighton appeared to do very little other than stand with his hands pressed to the surface of the ward, the energy blowing back his hair and causing sweat to break out on his forehead, but Samuel could FEEL the power, and see the reaction of the ward, its opaque surface shifting like water, areas clearing so that the dragons caught brief glimpses of the witches below scurrying about like ants as they tried to reinforce their magic by scattering herbs and arcane objects, and drawing runes on the bitumen.

Oren rubbed is stubbly beard, “We masked the magic here with a spell Cain came across. I don’t want to fight anyone over it or force anyone away from it. That would be a terrible waist of the magical power here.” “Besides, you need as much power as you can get.” Cain blurted out. Oren gave him a startled and admonishing gaze at the same time. “I mean, to charge your own spell nodes.” Cain recovered. “All right let’s have it, then.” Loril said. “What?” Oren tried to feign innocence.