Oblivion Mage Stone Novels & Stories

“The cavern is collapsing again. We need to get him out.” “I can’t move this!” I yelled. “You don’t have to. Just weaken it.” He tossed me a small, rune-etched dagger. “Channel your magic through this. It’ll amplify it.” My hand shook as I grabbed the blade. I pressed it to the stone. Magic surged—wild, unstable—but stronger than before. The boulder glowed with cracks of white light. “Riven—now!” Together, he and I forced our remaining strength into the blade. The stone split apart with a thunderous crack.

He breaks off and does not continue; we have no time for this list, tonight will. At the edge of the runes Rhaell lifts his head and traces a single slow circle on the stone with the tip of his staff as if closing the battle with it. “Deep in the moonstones there is still reserve,” he reports, a mage’s way of saying “we have not lost.” Lunathiel nods and tucks into her nod what she has just wept out: it hurts, but we go on working.

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.

Others were older, more violent, the magic only contained by stone that still remembered the ways it had been used to hurt you for merely touching the wrong brick. I passed through them all. They were not wards to keep people out. Not really. They were meant to make you forget the door was there. But I don’t forget things like that. Not for very long. The room on the other side was not large. A single chamber, oval in shape. The ceiling was domed, arching low in the center like the ribs of some long-dead leviathan. There were no windows. No torches. Only the faint violet luminescence of sigils carved into the walls, Umbraen, etched so deep into the rock that they would never fade. The way yo

The rest of the mud blanket broke off from the ones with his vines in it and retreated to a few meters below. Diell paid attention only to the two bald-headed mages before him, ignoring the mud blanket. Even if he destroyed it, they would simply create another one. One such bald-headed mage appears before him, throwing a punch to the face. He raised his wooden shield but was knocked back, only to feel a sharp pain in his upper back. A Stone spear being held by the other balded headed mage had found its way in his spine. The mud blanket came and wrapped around his body from head to toe, restricting his movements. He felt several more stone spears entering his body until he lost all feeling an

He knew the path from the book: a narrow goat trail leading to a hidden cave overlooking the battlefield. He found it—a dark fissure in the cliffside, pulsing with a malevolent energy. Inside, on a crude stone altar, sat the artifact: a black cube of obsidian, veined with crimson light that throbbed like a diseased heart. He could hear the distant sounds of battle—the grunts of men, the sizzle of Keith’s fire magic, the unearthly shrieks of disintegrating ghouls. It wouldn't take them long. He had to move.

A tear rolled down my cheeks and I quickly wiped it away. Astra exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple. “The Red Stone,” she murmured. Of course. I had a strong feeling. “It took something in return,” I said, shuddering. “Yes.” “Hmm. Well,” I said bitterly, “I think we found the payment.” Astra turned toward the table, her fingers lightly brushing across the ancient grimoire lying open there. “The Red Stone is older than most magic I’ve encountered. Proverbs one of the oldest magic we know,” she said carefully. “It wouldn’t break a curse without consequences. It consumes power equal to the curse it destroys.”

With a cry of agony, the shadow thing vanished into the night, its shape vanishing into thin air like smoke. Dominick gasped and stumbled backward, his chest heaving. Even though his strength was almost gone and his body was bruised, he could still see Lisa. Her body twitched slightly, as if drawn by an unseen power, but she remained in the circle. Then it came to him. The Obsidian Stone throbbing with untamed energy—the rumbling of sorcery. Dominick's heart halted as his gaze jerked to the stone.

I rolled my eyes back at him. I heard it before I saw it, lumbering through the undergrowth. Something big, I thought. It explained the crushed leaf matter. Sure enough, through the scrubby bushes, an ogre appeared. I had never seen one, but nothing else could be so similar to man and yet also so large. He made Rivyn seem dainty by comparison. He was dragging a large cauldron behind him, sloshing water. He was preparing to cook himself a meal, I thought, grimly, and Rivyn was on the menu. The mage was entirely too much trouble.

, Daman said and took a magic stone and chanted a spell on it ; it started to glow ,the room became so bright than before it was. Magic stones are expensive items only found in the Royal palace and seen in the mansion of higher nobles. Then he took five magic stones at once . I looked more surprised and let a gape. He smiled by seeing my expression. "Don't worry , I didn't steal it ; I took it from my master" he said with a smiling face .Does he think I bought that excuse ? Which masters give their Lackey so much expensive stuff ? Wait , did he just said 'took it from my master' ? What's the difference then ?huh. Whatever let's talk about it after finishing this matter.