Piltie Arcane Novels & Stories

The dim, ethereal light of the moon filtered through towering stained glass windows etched with arcane runes and ancestral seals. At the heart of the chamber stood a black marble table—cold, smooth, and ancient—surrounded by eleven high-backed chairs where the Council of Arcane Balance convened. A twelfth chair stood empty, cracked through its center—a relic of a long-banished member who once dabbled in forbidden arts.

And now, his presence was being felt again, his power resurfacing, his vengeance awakening. Finally, she contacted Marcus, a scholar of the arcane, a man who had dedicated his life to translating ancient languages and untangling the mysteries of forgotten civilizations. Marcus was Riana’s anchor to the past, her guide through the labyrinth of history and myth. He was a walking encyclopedia of arcane knowledge, his mind a vast repository of forgotten lore and esoteric wisdom. He could decipher ancient texts, interpret cryptic symbols, and unravel the secrets of long-lost cultures. Without Marcus, Riana would be adrift in a sea of ignorance, unable to navigate the treacherous currents of histo

My claws slid out involuntarily, slicing through one page. “This is it,” I whispered. I shoved the envelope into my satchel and scanned the desk again. Something glimmered faintly in the lantern light. A rolled piece of parchment, tied with black ribbon. The scent of old magic curled off it like smoke. I untied it carefully, spreading it on the desk. A map. The Vale forest in hand-drawn detail and circled in blood ink, deep in the woods: a ritual site. I traced the sigils scrawled around the circle, unease prickling down my spine. This wasn’t wolf magic. It wasn’t even witchcraft I recognized. It was older and wild. Jace’s name was also scribbled in the margin.

I swallowed. "But something came out." Neither of us spoke because we both knew he was right. Something had been released. Something powerful enough to attack Oakridge, something that might have been connected to the ancient magic Valerie had told me about. The last Arcane. The Voidborn. The two words suddenly felt connected in a way I couldn't explain, I remembered the books I had once read about the ancient world. The First Arcane had been powerful, the Voidborn had been dangerous and now I was apparently the last Arcane alive. My stomach twisted.

GAHAHAHA! ‘’That’s so smart master!’’ ‘’of course. I can’t be a tribe leader if I’m not smart’’ What’s glorifying and cheering in enthusiastic voice behind him are the mantis tribe and wasp soldiers from the hybrid tribe. ---- ‘’Are you sure about this Niru? What are these arcs for?’’ ‘’These arcs… Pallor Mortis, the upper arc, Arku Aspatia, the arc below Miragin, and the third arc located at the shoulder of this mountain, The hand of sundial. These arcs are actually portals.’’

Miya said, and luna Nesta nodded. “In that case, all of us represent Arcanes. All of us pick up properties from people around us to form an identity of our own. If we see on a broad scale, none of us have a unique identity of our own, we borrow identities of others now and then and dispose of parts of those identities like the skin of a snake. Don’t we?” I said. Luna Nesta smiled, “you are absolutely right, Diana. Maybe Zephyr is indeed normal because Arcanes are normal too. They are the invasive species of the Gloom forests.”

Morgana explained with a sad smile on her face. I wondered why she looked sad despite the smile. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Who did this?" Sage asked with squinted eyes. "Cause I'm sure this isn't a thing back at the kingdom. This is related to black magic." He frowned. "Yeah, it isn't a thing in our world since it's a spell." Morgana shrugged. "But someone went extra miles to protect the people." "That must be Mila." Sage said. "She never grows up. The risk is huge." He complained.

Arielle The sky didn’t close. It collapsed. A pulse shivered through the air—deep and final, like the world itself had taken a breath and was now holding it. The rift above me split wide, and from it poured the creatures. Not shadows. Not illusions. Real. Ravenous. Writhing. Built from anguish. Shaped by old magic that had forgotten mercy. And they were coming for everything. Lucian lay behind me, bloodied and barely breathing. The amulet burned against my skin, its power cresting—swelling like a tide that had nowhere left to go but out.

Its feel under her fingertips was icy, as though it were draining warmth from the very air around them. She opened her mouth to speak, to call for Damien and Lucas to secure the area, but words died on her lips as a wave of power slammed into her consciousness. The courtyard vanished behind her eyes, replaced by a vivid tapestry of shadows. She saw a cloaked figure standing over a massive table, scattered with fortress maps, each pinned with dark shards that glowed whenever the figure’s hand passed above them. In the vision, she heard the low murmur of arcane chanting, felt the clammy press of an unseen presence. The figure’s face was obscured, nothing more than a void beneath a hood, yet sh

In the early morning sun, Elaine could still see Andrew's grin as he left her in the shadows of the night. “You idiot,” The knight murmured, fingering the bright gold letters of the book, thinking she should have let him kiss her for what he’d done. Both so frustrating and yet the salvation of her people, “You wonderful idiot.” Elaine took a seat in the wooden chair, her hand opening the age-old book. Eyes scanned the countless names and gifts of fire, ice, and even wind. Some could speak into minds, and those who were so powerful they could bring down kingdoms or even end the 200’s year war.