Powder Crying Arcane Novels & Stories

She vowed to share her thoughts and feelings with her companions more openly, deepening their bonds. Kael: The arcane sorcerer, who had always been cautious with his powers, was confronted by a phantom version of himself wielding raw, uncontrolled magic. Kael understood that his true strength lay in mastering his abilities, not fearing them. He harnessed the chaotic energy and transformed it into a controlled force, unlocking a new level of power.

The scent was biting, very earthy, and metallic, like dried blood on sand. Elora flinched but didn’t pull away, causing him to smile. Azrion held the powder in his palm, whispering an incantation in the Old Tongue. “Saere luma, vidar ethra, telas mori.” and then blew the powder into her face. Elora’s head jerked back, as her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t tell what had unnerved her the most. The smell, or the violent visions that seized her mind once she took in a breath.

“And now he says I can’t use Charizard unless I bring a sacrifice!” I blinked. “I’m sorry, he did what now?” Arsen was still processing when Jade charged in behind him, dramatically holding up a red crayon like it was the elder wand. His voice was deep, serious, slightly British for some reason. “THE CARDS HAVE SPOKEN.” “We are five seconds from a full cult ritual,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And I still haven’t had a second coffee.” Then—because apparently the chaos gods weren’t done—Lorelai floated in. I say floated because she wore a sheer purple cape, a tiara perched sideways on her curls, and she was dragging the mop like it was a sacred staff.

The same whispers moving through the pack. I leaned forward slightly, my eyes locking onto his. “I want to know exactly who she is,” I said, my voice firm as I pushed the gold closer to him. His fingers brushed over the bag, but he did not open it yet. Instead, he watched me for a moment, like he was measuring my patience. “The only way to know,” he said slowly, “is when she uses that power again.” My brows pulled together slightly. He reached beside him and picked up a small pouch, dark in color, tied tightly with a thin string. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is a dark magic powder.”

I suddenly felt a gentle squeeze in my hand as Keir whispered in his magnetic voice, “I am sorry. I didn’t know about your mom or I wouldn’t have asked about it.” Smiling at him, I only managed to mumble feebly, “It is alright.” Suddenly, noticing some green sparkling powder, I asked curiously, “What is that? It looks beautiful.” “That is Addicto, a rare and poisonous drug. Don’t even look at that,” Keir warned instantly, pulling me closer. He added irritatedly, “Damn! That stall is overcrowded. I don’t understand why everyone is paying to buy death.” While giggling, I pointed at another stall, “What about visiting that stall? It is called ‘Angel’s den’. Do you wanna meet some angels?”

I drank it all in one swift movement. Jason, I wouldn't beg for your love again. I was going to love myself. So… Why are you the one who ended up regretting it? ... I looked at the crystal vial in my hand. The pale, pink liquid shimmered inside, giving off a scent that was both mesmerizing and dangerous. This was the legendary Love Potion, the forbidden magic of our world of Werewolves. Drink it, and the target would have "love" etched deep into their soul for seven years.

"In Lycanic bloodlines, there are maybe a dozen documented cases in living memory. They are a marker of the old-line magic. Sight-workers. People who can perceive the literal architecture of a spell." "Aldric can perceive magical structures," I whispered. "Aldric has been training you," Kael reminded me. I stood up so fast my chair screeched against the stone and tumbled backward. "No," I snapped. "No. I've seen him weep over my mother's journal. He's been hiding here for eleven years, terrified of the very thing we're fighting. He is not—"

“How did you do it?” “A key hidden in the crack in the wall,” he answered. “A few magical scrolls were in the chests, but they vanished after I read them.” He described the scrolls as having a green tinge to them and inscribed in an ancient text. Xiyu recalled Muxue Yan’s wife, the deity Ao Yun as being a deity that not only practised arcane magic but also possessed divine power. Her enchantment magic was only a small branch of arcane magic. If the scrolls didn't hold arcane magic, it was possible that it was divine magic, which constituted of healing and other health-boosting power.

The crack in the platform widened. Jasmina felt it immediately. Power rising from below. Ancient. Terrible. Hungry. "The vault," Meredith whispered. "She's actually opening it." Arlene stood at the crack's edge, magic pouring from her hands into the darkness below. "Lycan Kings, I claim your power. By blood of the Alpha. By death of the worthy. By right of the strong." The ground shook. Stone split apart. The platform tilted.

But before he could get any further, Arlyaen flicked his gaze sideways, and an icy blast shot forth, slamming the fallen angel toward the moldy well. He was suffocating. And the only way to save him... was to sacrifice her pearl. Miracle swallowed the sob rising in her throat, forcing back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes. Slowly arching her head to the vault, she reached deep into the core of her being, calling forth every fragment of her essence. Her elements stirred, drawn together in a final, anguished surrender.