Miraculous Book Novels & Stories

[Sixteen years ago, in the city of Lenford…] - A single petal floated in front of his eyes. It was a cherry blossom petal, one that signaled the beginning of the tree’s full bloom in spring. It was the first thing Michael McGregor saw before a girl about his age suddenly walked up to him, her hand tightly gripping the strap of her shoulder bag.

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.

It was just like the woods in Eclipse pack filled with nothing but trees. "You'll be able to do this once you've opened the book." Was the only response she gave. "Looking up ahead." She instructed and I did just that. Just a short distance before us, was the exact same copy of the book in Miguel's room. "Is that….?" I gasped. "It is exactly what you think it is, Lila. That is the book of Mageia, a sacred heritage of our kind." She spoke proudly, staring admirably at the book floating in the air.

She told herself. Not only would she get the magical book but the powers of all the mystical creatures living there as well. As she stood, her powers summoned one of the guards who kept watch outside into the room. “Yes, my Luna.” He saluted, bowing on one knee. “Find me that village Mirabelle fled to.” She instructed. “I would like to pay her a surprise visit.” She sneered, something sinister cooking at the corner of her head. * MIRA'S POV A woman stood at the edge of a darkened clearing, her silhouette backlit by a dying fire. Her hands clutched a leather-bound book—the same book I had stolen. Her fingers trembled, not with fear, but with urgency.

He turned away from the mirror to the book and grabbed it, slowly turning it the other way as the pentacle now appeared in its original position in the upright form. The moment he had done that. The symbol began to glow followed by the book suddenly opening itself and the pages flipping madly until up to the first page, which was initially the last page. "Woah..." Jake took a seat on the bed after realising the book had written itself again. The text was in English this time. The first page had a big title written in cursive font: Power of the Mind Jake quickly read through the first page and the writing seemed first hand-not printed, like someone had actually been writing on that book a ver

Sryrn and her queen's men replie Moriah peeled off the glove and let it fall to the ground, ready to turn into the Legend. The gods in the pyre were scarcely recognizable anymore. The head fell off the smith with a puff of ash and embers. Myra sang in the tongue of Waterfall, her voice rising and falling like the tides of the sea. Ezekiel untied his singed leather cape and listened in silence. Thrust in the ground, it still glowed ruddy hot, but the flames that clung to the sword were dwindling and dyin

With my heart racing, I took another glance at the book. It contained something. Something living. Mira brushed aside the dust and knelt next to it. Her eyes widened as she turned the pages. "This is more than a book," she muttered. "It is a prophecy." I gasped. One more prophecy? One we had never heard of? I took a step forward, reading the lines with trembling hands. "When the blood of the past meets the power of the future, the world will be remade." I felt cold. Mira's face was stern as she looked up.

MIA'S POV As I delicately turned the worn pages of the Book of Enchantments, my eyes widened in disbelief. Each incantation revealed a darker secret, a more malevolent power than the last. The ancient script described spells that could rend the very fabric of reality, summon creatures from the shadows, and manipulate minds with a mere whisper. My heart quickened as I stumbled upon a page filled with vicious curses, each word practically dripping with malice. The realization struck me like a physical blow – this book, revered for its enchantments, was a weapon of unimaginable destruction.

he finally inquired. I nodded. My sensitivity to the world's shifts, heightened after the funeral rites, was why I had fought to be there. The world was awash with malice and a bizarre sense of wrongness, as if a polar bear had wandered into the Antarctic. My gut told me that dissonance was our lifeline. Our mission was to dispel it and set things right. Our imperative was to drive the haunts away and reclaim the world. On my way over, an idea popped into my head out of nowhere: gold coins were what made the strange world go round, and the haunts were so crazy about them.