Magie Novels & Stories

There was a tall white candle and two polished obsidian stones. "So what kind of magic is this?" Cassius asked observing over my shoulder. "It is called scrying," she said matter-of-factly. Selene stepped between Ares and Magnus to light a piece of kindle in the fireplace. She then walked her flame to the candle and lit the wick before shaking the tinder out. "What does it do?" Kole asked curiously. Every one of us was fascinated by the witch's current actions. "If I do it right, then I should be able to see where Damion is located," she said as she settled herself in my chair directly in front of the candle flame.

Margot turns back to the mirror, just staring at her reflection – my reflection twice, really. She shakes her head, raising a hand to her cheek and softly touching it like she’s not sure it’s real. “This shouldn’t be possible.” I hesitate. “Why not?” “The magic,” she murmurs, leaning over the sink to inspect her face, turning it this way and that to observe the incredible effects of the spell. “It’s not that powerful. It’s just a little cantrip – a joke spell…”

I shake my head Sigmond gives me a look of badly fegined pity “How to take a bath?” “Of course,” I roll my eyes, tucking my arm back in the coat “Shouldn’t you abhor magic? Since you hunt witches, I assumed you believed they were wrong somehow.” “This can't be considered magic,” Sigmond walks over to the hearth, brushing a finger along the stone above. Flames upon those who dare come close. “Witches create spells and infuse them with demonic energy for them to work. Over time, magic can be infused in the words, and if the user has enough affinity for it, they may even imbue the effect in an object.”

he declars, his eyes burning with determination. Gin, the enigmatic magician of our group, has an array of abilities at his disposal. He could manipulate magic to conjure powerful spells, exhibit incredible telepathic prowess, and blink into places with the swiftness of thought. "I can use my magic to provide us with an advantage," Gin offers, his voice steady. "My telepathy will keep us informed, and my ability to blink will allow us to move quickly and quietly."

The room seemed to vibrate with an ethereal aura as she continued: "Through realms obscured, we seek the lost, Across the veils of time, our plea is cast. By sacred waters and moonlit skies, Reveal the path where my daughter is amassed." The air crackled with a palpable charge, the words intertwining with invisible currents of magic that permeated the space. Margaret's hands moved with purpose, a choreography of gestures that channeled her intentions: With her arms outstretched, she traced intricate sigils in the air, connecting unseen energies: "By the sigils of binding, etched upon the aether, I summon the echoes of her presence near.

The pattern on the front was of a wolf howling at the moon, encircled in intricate intertwining branches. Curling up in my favourite chair, I carefully lay the book in my lap and open the cover. “The ancient art of untamed magic, “I read aloud and took in the subject matter. Untamed magic was the old term used for dark or forbidden magic. My hands shook as I took in the magnitude of what I was reading. There were witches in this house channelling untamed magic, Alune was right, and it terrified me.

“What does the tale say that will supposedly help us determine what is happening?” “Well,” said the Water Witch. “It’s the story of a young mage, brilliant, but naive. She wasn’t master of one element, but of all four, and still, she wanted more. So she set out to master the spirit. The Grand Sorcerer is a representation of it, but one cannot simply command spirit. It is the very essence of being. The mage was determined, however. She came across a king who fell madly in love with her. This love, she felt, was the way to harness the final piece of her power, and so she feigned to love him back. And at the moment when he was most vulnerable, as he vowed himself to her for all eternity, she re

It was hand written. She went on, flipping the book and stopping to read through some parts of it. It was a book about spells and she found herself laughing at the silliness of the thought that magic was still in existence. Some of the spells in the book made Matilda to shake her head and conclude that the book had been written during the time that witches existed. Some of the recipes in the book had ingredients like a two day old crow's blood, the crushed bark of a cider tree, four leaved clovers, mint leaves that had bloomed in the summer and many other bizarre ingredients.

A blacksmith swore loyalty to the crown— And the metal in his forge softened like wax without heat. None of it catastrophic. None of it violent. But undeniable. The laws of magic were bending. Not because Lily commanded it. Because her existence was recalibrating the field. Luke stood in the war chamber staring at reports spread across the table. “Spontaneous manifestation,” one general muttered. “Localized distortions,” said another. “Divine contamination,” whispered a priest. Lily stood at the center of the room, silent.

"Why do I feel... so... heavy?" I whisper looking over at Candi, hoping she can give me the answer. "This is where she practices her magic. It came at a high cost," she whispers back. "The whole area is imbued with her magic. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, she's all about dark magic." I'm going to agree with her assessment. The whole place felt dark and twisted.