Miracle Happens Book Novels & Stories

“This book can grant all your wishes and make your dreams come true.” Her heart raced after hearing what she said. “Can this book bring the dead to life?” she asked with hope. “Yes, the book can do that as long as you have memories with them.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She felt so happy, as if she had just woken up from her worst nightmare. “Please tell me! How can I make my wish come true?” “Give your blood to the mirror. Let the darkness turn to the light. Your heart will answer your question. But there is a price you have to pay if you fail. Your soul will be mine forever.”

I had heard about such a book but I never knew the name was Holy Grail. Yes! A book where you could cast spells no matter who you were or what you were. I was exactly the kind of book I needed. "The mission you are about to embark on is a death threat to your baby. You need every means possible to keep your alive so your baby could be born. This book is the key to your unanswered prayer from the Moon goddess. Take it" Mary pushed the book to me and tapped on it gently. I could have sworn I heard her crying. She was almost breaking down with the book in my arms. I felt so grateful.

She chose not to tell him about Nomar and her mission here. When Beatrice finally spoke, everything came tumbling out. She told him of the book in the antique bookstore where she worked and about how she had read the spell that transported her here. She told him that since then, ske believed that magic existed. She also told him that the first time she had gone to the lake, as she put her feet into the water, she had gained some of the memories of Beatrice.

" Joe asked from behind her. "It's a birthmark borne by children who were touched by a goddess from another realm," She said casually. "Wait, what?" Kurt asked in disbelief. "Yeah, I read about it in a book," She said. "What book?" Joe asked. Lydia stopped walking and took off her backpack. She opened it and took out a large book and handed it to Joe. "This book..." She said. The book was large and on the cover, it had the word "TROLEYADIA" on it in large font.

She handed me a shot, and I instantly took it. "That bad, huh?" She poured me another. "Something like that," I said, scanning the room, looking for why I came here. "I see you’re still playing around with those bracelets," Mirja noticed them on my arm. "That cheap magic won’t get you far." "It’s fast work, and it gets the job done. If only someone would let me borrow her book-" "I told you. That book is evil. Nothing but trouble in the wrong hands," Mirja said.

Not imagined. Not wished for. Real. The realization settled quietly inside her chest. Not every miracle arrived dramatically. Sometimes miracles looked like sunlight through a window. Coffee growing cold on a bedside table. A husband pretending to lose arguments on purpose. A daughter with impossible dreams and color-coded folders. Sometimes miracles looked exactly like the life people built after surviving the life they thought would destroy them.

I glance beside me and there stood the seer. Proud look on his face with a smile. “What is happening right now?” I found myself asking, the seer chuckle beside me. “Miracle.” That was all he said, soon the courtyard filled with people, living beings, no dead bodies and the blood that dirtied the floor was gone too as if magically wiped clean. Then the boy lowered his hands and the snow stopped.

The kind elderly woman shifts her focus to me, and I promptly stand up and greet her respectfully with a bow. She studies me. “Yeah, sure thing." I don't miss the sight of her eyebrows doing a little dance as she spins around and saunters down the corridor to the kitchen. Grey breaks in, redirecting my attention. "That's Gabriella, my godmother,” he introduces, before gesturing for me to sit. “No need to stand on ceremony.” I sit back down.

Of her. She flipped through pages drawn in charcoal—some with shaking hands, some with precision. One page showed a girl surrounded by flame. Her eyes were glowing. Her silhouette, familiar. “What is this?” she asked. “It’s the record of the Fireborn,” he said. “There’s only ever one in a generation. Sometimes none. It skips centuries. But when the world begins to change—when things grow restless—that fire finds a home.” She closed the journal, her heart thudding. “Why me?”