Miraculous Novels & Stories

The easy manner had something under it now that hadn't been there before, quieter and less comfortable. "You won't go further?" Kaelen said. "Not past this." Mira said, her eyes on the archway, "the old magic sits different on the other side of that arch. Things stop behaving the way things should behave." "You've been through?" I said. "Once." she said, and her jaw tightened slightly on whatever came after that in her memory, "and that once was enough." She left it at that and looked away. Sera walked past both of them without a word.

he sighed deeply at my words, but not saying anything. “Have you ever heard of mirrored souls?” I asked a moment later, “It’s a connection between two people with a history like ours, that end up mirroring each other's energy and growth. A deep bond that ties two lives…to the extend that it feels like one can call for the other once in close range without even speaking.” I whispered intensely while holding his gaze in the glass.

He was acutely aware of how vulnerable he felt, sitting at the table, surrounded by unfamiliarity and danger. "I... I was looking for the Fruit of Miracles," he stammered, speaking quickly as if to distance himself from the foolishness of his earlier wish. "I heard that it grants strength and power. So... I snuck out," he admitted, shame creeping into his voice. ‘Fruit of MIracles?’ Elena wondered in her mind, ‘For the longest time I have lived here, I haven’t heard anything like that.’ She looked at Alterna to confirm if she really did hear it right. But Alterna just shook her head.

Her skin is peeling off and she is screaming in pure agony. Her screams echo throughout my body, reaching out to my heart and making me bleed. I run forward again, my body colliding with the wall of darkness. Pain courses through my body, but I don’t stop. I continue hitting the wall, again and again and again. Nothing happens and her screaming never ceases. Shifting back to my human form, I place my hand on the wall of darkness and shout her name. “ MIRACLE! ” Slowly, she fades out of my vision and it’s like I can feel her in my bones even if I can’t see her.

It hurts tht I don't matter, that my emotions do not matter. I pat my head to feel the scarf I just tied a few minutes ago, almost knocking off the sun glasses I wore over my puffy eyes earlier. "So, first, Ms Moukthar's office abi?" I nod. She drives out of the car park and I revel in the silence that reigns, too tired to even cry. Glossary: Surah: Chapters of the Holy Qur'an. Ayah: Verses of the Holy Qur'an.

"I am indeed useless. I can't be of much help to the Elder in there. Moon Goddess, please. Protect him in there. May he return with Lyra safely?" Mirielle 's hands shimmered; she pressed her hands against the transparent magic wall. Trying to absorb and destroy it. Mirielle attempted to suppress the barrier's magic power. Not only could she not penetrate it, but she also could not use her magic to shield Lyra's body through her shield.

I hung up. I rested my chin over my knuckles, casually staring at the nothingness in front of me as if it was a very normal thing to do. It's impossible for me to acquire that virus. There's no way I'm going to interact with anyone, especially now that there's a very reasonable excuse not to. Suddenly, a black and purple blur crossed my vision. I whipped my head to the side, following its trajectory. It was a butterfly.

In the distance, I could see rows and rows of grapevines. Suddenly, the sun and blue sky vanished, replaced by gray clouds, and it began to rain. "Does the rain bother you?" he asked me. I lifted my head, savoring the cool droplets on my face. "No. A rainy day in Italy is still better than a good day anywhere else." He laughed, and that made me look at him. His shirt was gone, revealing his smooth chest and perfectly sculpted muscles that would have made Michelangelo weep with their beauty. I reached out, tracing my fingers along his chest.

As long as the Reincarnation Mirror was in his possession, even if his identity was exposed and he faced powerful foes from all sides, he would have the confidence to escape unscathed—or even strike back. Mystic Vale slowly channeled power through his fingertips, a strand of interwoven black light pouring into the mirror. The once unremarkable ancient mirror instantly glowed with a faint, soft white halo, gentle yet immense, faintly inscribed with mysterious patterns of reincarnation that drifted across the surface like flowing galaxies, exuding the weight of countless ages.

Love, it seemed, held the power to rewrite the script of existence itself. Truly, it was a testament to the resilience of human emotion and the inexplicable bonds that tethered souls together. Her return to the realm of the living felt like a symphony orchestrated by love, a crescendo that had brought her back from the brink of the unknown. The narrative echoed with the refrain of miracles, a reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, the power of the heart could rewrite the very rules of reality.