Oblivion Mage Stone Novels & Stories

My jaw dropped as I looked carefully at the image of the stone. The same stone, encased in my mother's locket, was not just a beautiful gem; it was a legendary artifact with mystical properties. The Arctic stone, described in the book as a legendary gem, possessed mystical properties. It could grant unparalleled power to its possessor, but the condition was as extraordinary as the stone itself – a single drop of essence from every existing supernatural species. The revelation left me breathless, my mind swirling with questions about my mother's possession.

The lowest magic energy was red, then orange at the second level, yellow, then green, blue, indigo, and finally purple. When they walked around, the stone remained black, then slowly started to turn red to orange when approaching a room. "Can you open this room, please?" asked Sir Collins to Edmund. Al glanced at Edmund, and the man answered with a friendly smile and a nod. "Of course. Al please open the door for my artifact storage. I'm sure they're not thieves who would take my hard-earned antiquity," said Edmund in a friendly but sharp tone. Al opened the door to the artifact storage room. The room looked like a museum, which was quite spacious. There were various artifacts on display and

"You are trying to be the martyr again, sister. Just like mother. She gave her life for a sanctuary that lasted a mere decade. How long will your dome last? A minute? Ten?" "Long enough," I said. I reached for the Mother-Lode essence in my marrow. I didn't push the fire. I pushed the Roots. I remembered the Father of Roots in the Iron-Wood Valley. I remembered how it drank the darkness and turned it into gold. I channeled that memory into the white stone beneath my feet. "Breathe with the stone," Hala's voice whispered in my mind. The marble didn't shatter this time. It began to change. The white stone turned a deep, translucent red—Sanguine Marble. The red energy flowed up the Border-Spire,

he said, his voice distorted but clear. The scarred mage stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on the tortoise symbol etched into my palm. “Interesting,” she murmured. “What does it mean?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. Her expression gave nothing away. “It means you have much to explain. But that’s for later.” She turned to the others. “She’s clean. Let her through.” “What about Blooby?” I asked, clutching the small mechanical knight to my chest. The mage’s gaze softened, if only slightly. “He can come—for now.”

The mages stood like twin pillars of stormlight at the academy steps, their power crackling, holding something unseen at bay. He could feel the stone calling to him. Not finished. Never finished. Lucian staggered up from the ground nearby, eyes fixed on the gem with naked hunger. “Give it to me,” the old man rasped. “It was meant for me.” Jax barked a laugh. “You couldn’t handle it.” The courtyard trembled again. Something deep beneath Wildbourne answered the chaos, a low grinding moan of ancient mechanisms waking further. Fintan’s voice rang out over the battlefield. “The stone has chosen no master yet!”

Lucien cut in, glancing back at me, “we thought perhaps her ability could help with the King.” The Queen’s voice came soft but pointed: “Explain.” Lucien gestured with a flick of his hand. “You know as well as I do that most curse-breaking relies on two things: divine magic or mana stones infused with death energy. Abyssal stones, like the kind found in the rift. Or…” He let it hang there. “Summoned stones,” I finished for him. My voice didn’t shake. “From the dead.” The mage hissed under his breath.

Still alive, still twitching with the kind of power that ruins empires and makes grown alphas cry. I pluck it up between my fingers, rolling it thoughtfully. It tingles—warm and biting at the same time. The dark mage who gave me the incantation to bind it had smelled like brimstone and old leather. He claimed the stone would answer to my will, but warned that it would also remember its first master. I laughed in his face. Still do, sometimes, when I catch my reflection twitching back at me. The stone may whisper, but I shout louder. I probably shouldn’t have touched it bare-handed that one time. My eyebrows never fully grew back.

I already asked my question, and I wouldn't get another. "I believe we had a deal, King Garren. I held up my end. Now it is your turn to hold up yours." I nodded, stepping towards the case that held the stone. With a wave of my hand, the magic ward around it fell, and I opened the case and pulled out the stone, breaking off a piece. "A sliver of Hellstone," I said, offering her the piece. She took it carefully, eying it before slipping it into a small pouch she must have had in a hidden pocket.

And there had to be a clue here somewhere. “Shit,” I breathed, inching closer to the wreckage. Magic fizzed and spat in the air, sparks of purple and gold hissing at the sky. Stones of onyx lay shattered on the ground, large rocks and tiny, glittering shards staring up at me pleadingly. “Marla wasn’t exaggerating when she said obliterated,” said Davin, toeing a stone thoughtfully. He hadn’t changed it since the ball, and the sleek black dress shoe looked wrong against the mess of the portal.

Kael muttered. Gared turned and threw a curse. “I knew he’d come to follow us here.” The old mage waved his arms, controlling the swarm of red objects that looked like petals glowing in red. In an instant, the petals formed into three arcs before they launched towards the trees, slicing the trunks with incredible sharpness and ease. As the area fell into silence, the petals scattered in the air. Kael’s eyes watched them in awe. He had never seen such unique magic. “Where the hell have you been, Stone?” Magus Jade asked in an irritated tone as the petals gathered and circled him. Then they compressed together, forming into a long staff.