Phoenix Sorcerer Novels & Stories

Like a coiled snake, it came towards them with its stealthy movement. "Can you do a spell or something?" Cassandra whimpered with tears. "I can't," Vasilisa admitted in a hiss. She had used too much of her magic to summon the Phoenix. It was next to impossible to cast any spell in this state. The only way to survive the Screamer now was to get out of the pit, but there was no exit except the hole they had fallen through. Vasilisa could easily fly off, but not Cassandra, and even if she could throw a fire spell to frighten the demon away or cast an invisible spell, it would still come back at them like a vulture smelling blood.

But tonight, it was ours alone. Inside, the air was still, carrying the faint scent of fresh wood and promise. I closed the door behind us, shutting out the world. My cut hung heavy on my shoulders, but when I looked at her, it was like the weight lifted. “Kat,” I said, my voice rough, the name tasting like home. “Tonight, it’s just you and me. Before the boys, before the noise. I want this night with my Phoenix.” Her smile was soft, but her eyes blazed, and I knew she understood. This wasn’t about escape—it was about claiming the quiet, the fire, the bond we’d sworn before gods and family alike.

“Oh my goddess, you mean Lucien?” “Lucien?” “Lucien Potter,” she sighs dreamily. “He’s from the old line, one of the founding witch families. His family’s coven is “The Obsidian Circle” and they’re ridiculously rich. Like, they own half of the city rich. He is in his third year at the academy, top of every class. People say he was trained since birth for war. He just got back from one, I think. Some witch conflict in the Northern Territories. The whole school is buzzing with stories.”

“Try again! Aren't you as powerful as you claim to be! You know no one leaves this pack alive without providing the answers I need!” The sorcerer, an old man with yellow teeth who was shaking now and was obviously scared for his life, started giving me double shots of the herbs and piercing me with a needle. I was in so much pain from the torture as I screamed, my back arching from the table they strapped me to. “I don't understand,” the sorcerer says to himself. “The bloodline is there, I can feel her silver wolf powers but it seems something is blocking it”

When he was about to lie down to rest, he saw a figure seated on the couch at the extreme staring at him with a creepy smile. "Phoenix?" Hadn't he left just now? What was he doing here again? He got off the bed and cautiously walked to him. "Brother, I... What do you want from me?" he nervously questioned. But the Phoenix didn't say a word and just kept beaming. It was then that it dawned on him that this was a copy of Phoenix. Copies don't talk but fight half as good as their master. And since Phoenix was capable of replicating himself, it only meant one thing- he was a sorcerer.

In his letter, I explained all that I knew about the Phoenix spirit that dwells within me. While my father was the Sorcerer King, my mother was pure fae. When they came together and created me, I fulfilled some sort of prophecy that granted me not only the gift of time magic, but the ability to be reborn. The catch – the Phoenix spirit can only be activated after my twenty-fifth birthday. Fortunately, my uncle was unaware of this as well.

Her eyes, burning with ancestral fire, locked onto his. “I am the Flamebearer of Saphiren. I have reclaimed what is mine. And you... will not touch my family again.” The ground split beneath her feet, casting the High Priest back with a shockwave of golden light. Phoenix glyphs seared the air, burning away the walls that fed on despair.

His presence was always unsettling, a constant reminder of the power he wielded; dark, ancient, and ruthless. He was no ordinary man. Marcus—no, not just Marcus. The sorcerer. The descendant of the annihilated Serpens Pack. The offspring of the twin who had outlived his people’s destruction and had clawed his way through centuries of vengeance, mastering dark magic in secrecy.

I question, looking over to Phoenix while everyone stares at us in complete shock. “My magics, I was angwy. The madder I gets da hotter I burn, like the fire biwd… my name? I see things, and I feel things because I can touch the soul. My magics is evewything,” Phoenix explains staggering closer to me, so I pull her into my arms feeling her exhaustion bleeding into me. “Dagon wanted kill you before da war,” Phoenix’s exhausted voice comes out almost as whisper, and I nod. “One he just started, we’ll be ok though, I won’t let anything happen to you or your daddies,” I brush her hair out of her face, and she smiles gently.

It is now no longer Phoenix lying over me, but a passing warlock vampire hybrid. I struggle against Phoenix as flashes of the hybrid memory continue to play in my head. I don’t realise that Phoenix has stopped moving. As I continue to struggle to move my hands to his chest and push, I know I shouldn’t, but in my panic I whisper a small incantation and push it out through my hands, throwing Phoenix back and off of me. Only I receive the backlash from doing such a spell at close range. As a consequence, I am thrown into my memory…