Printable Cipher Wheel Novels & Stories

“This. Old school. No code machines, no firewalls. Just symbols.” Liora pulled it closer, flipping pages filled with strange grids, numbers paired with odd markings—circles, crosses, even drawings of sea creatures. “It’s a cipher,” she murmured. “But not random.” Wren leaned over her mother’s shoulder, her small fingers tracing one of the grids. “That looks like the puzzle in the back of the book,” she said. Liora blinked down at her. “What book?”

She began to write on paper each corresponding letter of the alphabet in baconian cipher. BACONIAN CIPHER A = AAAAA B = AAAAB C = AAABA D = AAABB E = AABAA F = AABAB G = AABBA H = AABBB I & J = ABAAA K = ABAAB L = ABABA M = ABABB N = ABBAA O = ABBAB P = ABBBA Q = ABBBB R = BAAAA S = BAAAB T = BAABA U & V = BAABB W = BABAA

Her witness closed the package with thread and pressed the smallest Veyr seal across the knot. Boots struck the corridor. A patrol, moving fast. The replacement servant looked toward the door. Lorelai seized the paper matrix that had guided the cipher. If the guards found it, they could reconstruct every word concealed in the bandage. She put one corner between her teeth and tore. Pain from her side flared as she pulled the paper apart with both hands. She tore again, splitting the lines through their numbers, then shoved the pieces into the flame beneath the wax warmer.

My gut rarely failed me, and this morning, it screamed of foul play. I rolled out of bed, stretched, and padded over to the desk in my room. The small lamp on it flickered weakly when I turned it on, casting shadows across the wood. I reached for the notepad hidden in the false bottom of the drawer, pulled it out, and grabbed a pen. Messages couldn’t be sent openly—not when eyes lingered on everything I did—so I wrote in ciphers, the kind only two or three people alive could understand. Short, clipped, disguised as nonsense. *Ravens circle the south. Nets must be stronger. The hound hides bones where wolves dare not tread.*

I asked, leaning my head back against the stone wall and keeping my voice low so nobody down the hall could overhear us. "I am working as fast as I can, Alexander," Mae called back from inside the room, her voice muffled slightly by the stacks of papers surrounding her, "this cipher uses a triple-layered substitution code, so it takes a minute to match the symbols up with the right letters." "Just hurry up because Kaelor and Zareth already left the palace to search the old district, and if we do not catch up to them with the right coordinates, they are going to walk right into a trap," I said, shifting my weight from one boot to the other while scanning the shadows near the staircase.

“This is the most basic cipher. I can’t believe the genius didn’t know this. Yes, I’m talking about you Stefano.” “Stop dissing me and just explain whatever that is.” “Okay, so just like I said it’s a cipher. Codes or ciphers are used by coders or some mysterious ass shit who is secretly conveying message to another person. Caesar cipher is, obviously, a cipher. To use it, you just have to move the alphabets in three. Push them back in three places, so here are the alphabets as you can see,” he said as he points the white board. “Push them back three places, and D becomes A, E becomes B, F becomes C and so on. While, A becomes X, B becomes Y and C becomes Z. Get it?”

As their truck roared down the highway, Sophie explained to Jim that the cryptex was Da Vinci's solution to the dilemma of sending secure messages over long distances. "We require a password," Sophie said, pointing out the dials. "A cryptex works much like a combination lock. If you align the dialls in the proper position, the lock slides open. This cryptex has five lettered dials. When you rotate them to their proper sequence, the tumblers inside align, and the entire cylinder slides apart." "What about the inside?" "Once the cylinder slides open, you have access to a hollow central compartment, which can hold a scroll of paper on which is the information you want to keep private."

Being not able to escape, Massimo had locked himself in the deepest vault. I reached the end of the stone corridor and found my path blocked by a reinforced steel door. It wasn't wired to the network Isabella had dismantled. It was entirely analog. An iron cipher wheel was embedded in the center of the steel, surrounded by Latin inscriptions and Roman numerals. A failsafe mechanism. If I entered the wrong sequence, the internal deadbolts would permanently fuse. I stared at the iron wheel. Massimo was a creature of habit, a man obsessed with the old ways of the syndicate. He wouldn't use a random sequence. He would use something significant. Something that mocked me.

I was creating a tiny, hidden portal. I wrote a quick piece of code—a reverse shell—and installed it deep within Higgins's browser cache. This shell would only activate if it received a very specific, coded email. I then sent one last, encrypted message using the external proxy link to Mia's burner account: the activation code. > Evelyn (Coded): New contact method: Higgins's private email. Subject Line: The Queen needs a new cipher for her chess problem. Body: [4-digit code]. Send every ten days exactly. Do not miss a beat. If the code works, the reply will be confirmation.

Reset before 18:00 to preserve safehouse. We wrote it twice. Nyra wrote a third copy with fewer words, just signposts: KEY—CIRCLE—SUNWHEEL—FOUR-NOTCHES. JOURNAL—C. STAFF—VAULT TWO. SHARDS—NIGHT ONLY. She taped it to the underside of the table with wax and a charm that would make the wood pretend it had always been like that. Thalia lifted the hearthstone and slid another copy beneath. Elias burned a fourth onto the back of the chair with a heated nail, the letters thin in the grain, not easily seen unless you were looking for them.