Oblivion Sorcerer Novels & Stories

The very air around these places crackled with dark energy, a palpable testament to the malevolent forces they wielded. One particular sorcerer, a gaunt man named Malkor, had proven to be exceptionally skilled in tracking Elara through the ley lines of the land. He claimed to be able to sense the disturbance in the magical currents caused by her presence, a ripple in the otherwise placid flow of arcane energy. Malkor worked closely with Isolde, his findings feeding directly into her operational plans. He would describe ethereal landscapes, the subtle shifts in the spiritual winds, and the faintest echoes of Elara’s power, painting a picture that allowed Isolde’s agents to narrow their search

“I followed the bread crumbles that was left behind the people who sold her the forbidden spell.” “And that’s how you found out about the rebels.” “Yes. There I went into a tavern, deep into the city. Disguised, I found a great deal of information. An old sorcerer who was brewing up powers and the destruction of the world. A follower of the treachery Elva.” Solomon’s fist tightened frighteningly. Lily gasped. “She- She have an apprentice.” Solomon shook his head. “No, just an admire.” Lily didn’t know that there was such a person who would try to resurrect the living memory of Elva.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t respond, crouching to draw intricate symbols on the floor with my blood. The motions were precise, almost mechanical, and low murmurs spilled from her lips—a chant in a language I couldn’t begin to understand. “Things seen and things not seen, let this girl walk in between. Though they look, they shall not see. Grant invisibility, for I am Arson, Sorcerer of Furvus, and it harm none, so mote it be.” The blood began to glow faintly, casting eerie, flickering shadows across the walls.

"You're the only child I found who stands a chance to free her from this loathsome spell. Without her wand, a sorceress is without magic. And a sorceress without magic is no more powerful than an ordinary woman. That's why she needs you. I've gone through the mirrors every day, visiting so many places to look for someone like you." "But how could someone like me help your mistress?" Cassandra said. "I'm just an ordinary girl." "Ha! Ordinary my foot!" Owlyn scoffed. "You have the blood of a seer. It runs in the family, passing from mother to daughter." "What?" Cassandra turned to Owlyn with a confused look, but before she could ask anything else, Cassandra felt the same gripping sensation in

And there, I scour ancient tomes and scrolls, learning more spells that might come in handy when my quest for revenge starts. In my dream, my fingers will dance over different parchments, tracing the arcane symbols and incantations of long-lost spells. Caius also provided me with seers, monks and alchemists. And because they are being blackmailed by the vampire prince, they are forced to share their techniques with me — all poultices, elixirs and enchantments. But handy techniques and skills are not the only things I peruse. I also worked on my skills of using powerful and potent spells, like that powerful sleeping spell.

“Your birthday is October 31st—on Samhain. What better place to be at that time than in New Orleans? Now, Gideon is an orphan—you’ll find all these on the file. He has no idea who his parents are, which means there’s no way to know his Magickal bloodline. You’re going to have to be inventive after you’ve talked with him to convince him to go with us when we arrive there for him.” “How are you so sure I can accomplish all this? First of all, he’s a hermit. Second, he doesn’t even know me. Third, I don’t know him except for what you have on the file which I haven’t even read. I—” “Because the Oracle said so.” She shrugs. “And the Oracle has never been wrong. So who am I or the Council to doubt

I bit my lips and continued to crawl until I was harshly turned over, the warriors set me on my knees and every drive in me was lost, all hope because I knew what was coming. “Hmm, she already looks half dead,” Lexi's voice pierced the air filled with disgust. The Crimson blood never let the banished souls to live, they believe they would be betrayed once they are out of the pack. They also didn't believe in mercy against heinous crimes that had been committed, which was the reason behind their strength, they were the strongest pack in the last century. And they were about to do the same thing to me. Torian grabbed my jaws and forced me to look at him, my vision however was blurry from how m

Lucas continued to scream as he was dragged away. "I want to see the High Sorcerer! I've been framed! The High Sorcerer can prove it!" The High Sorcerer was the descendant of a witch who always wore a kindly smile but was venomous at his core. He was also Lucas' strategist and one of the accomplices who had nearly gotten the Kingdom wiped out back then. In the crowd, the High Sorcerer quietly retreated, trying to slip away unnoticed. "Leaving already?"

His voice was low, calm, a whisper that scratched against my bones. “Don’t bother,” the man said. His eyes were sharp, his smile thin. “Your strength is bound. Your Alpha blood, your wolf… all of it is held down.” I froze. A sorcerer. I hadn’t seen one before, but I knew what they were. Dangerous. Ruthless. Men who twisted power into chains invisible and unbreakable.

“The curse may be gone, but we’ve awakened something far worse.” Clara gripped his hand, her heart pounding. “What do we do?” Marcus’s eyes hardened with resolve. “We fight.” As the chamber trembled and the swirling shadows intensified, Marcus tightened his grip on Clara’s hand. The sorcerer's cold grin deepened, his voice a chilling whisper. “You may have broken the curse, but you've unleashed an obscurity more powerful than anything you've ever faced.” Suddenly, the ground split underneath them, and a stunning thunder resounded through the chamber. From the expanding abyss, an enormous, shadowy figure started to rise, its eyes shining with an ancient wrath.