Sirius Black Wand Runes Novels & Stories

“Hand her over, little wolf. We’ll make it quick.” Serna’s voice dropped to ice. “You’re not touching her.” She drew the moon-blessed knife Rowan had given her, silver blade catching lightning, and slashed a perfect circle in the mud around her feet. Old warding runes flared faint blue. The rogues hesitated. “Blue Moon witch-blood,” one hissed. “Still flesh,” Half-ear snarled, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Take her!” They lunged. Serna whispered the activation word Rowan had drilled into her head for three days straight. The circle ignited, blue fire roaring up waist-high. The two rogues slammed into it and screamed as the wards burned fur and skin alike.

Shit… Bella, you drank that water… you're in real trouble… “Or wait, he was supposed to have found her by now… damn it!” I purred in her mind… “Bella…” All I got was silence. The darkness that clouded our mind link sent shivers down my spine. This is bad, really bad… “Johan!!!!” My voice echoed across the room. My body thud against the wall as I crashed in pain. I grabbed a few more potions to heal my wounds… thereafter, I picked the rune of Sira, the weight of its magic filled my soul. It was among the originals that were left behind by the ancient sorcerers.

“The Sanctuary of the First Lunas.” Lucian gave a low, derisive hum. “Or a graveyard for fools.” Serena ignored them both. The altar called to her, not with words but with heat. The air shimmered faintly, and as she placed her palm against the cold stone, the runes flared to life—silver at first, then bleeding into violet-black, the same shade as her wolf’s eyes. The ground trembled. Across the altar, lines of script blazed to life, etching themselves into the stone with a hiss like burning flesh.

“Have you got your own druidic wand?” “A what?” I answered swiftly. “It is an object we use to enhance the spell of potion we are working on.” Aerin stood up and sauntered over to the table, she started drawing on a piece of paper that Grandma Rose handed to her. “It is called a Druid rod or wand. It is made from Hazel, with herbal clay worked around it and embellished with crystals.” She drew a staff-like wand. “It has to touch the thing that it was directed at with the crystal at the top.”

TRISTAN: The man before us held a rune detector – a magical wand that could sense the presence of spirit stones or the presence of a Shadow Rune wolf… As such, my eyes were fixated at the other end of the wand where a circular orb was attached. Once that orb starts to glow, it will give away my identity as a Shadow wolf. Almost instantly, Dahlia grabbed me by the hair and forced my head down towards her neck.

The three sisters join hands and murmur an incantation. I watch in stunned silence as the runes begin to glow brightly underneath the thick layer of salt. Soon, the salt turns black, and the witches finally release their hands, and Petra wipes the salt from Willow's back. As she wipes the salt off of Willow, it takes the runes along with it. Willow's spine is clear of the symbols that were once there. “That is all it took?” I ask, astonished. The three witches nod their heads, and I feel pissed off. “Then why wasn't it done sooner?”

The Silvermoon Pack, the scrolls revealed, was founded on the ideals of balance and understanding, a beacon of hope in a world torn apart by conflict. The scrolls also revealed the origin of the ancient runes, the powerful symbols Lyra had used in the battle against the Obsidian Pack. They were not merely symbols of power; they were keys to unlocking a potent magic, a magic that could be used for both good and evil. The runes, the scrolls explained, were the remnants of a forgotten language, a language that spoke to the very heart of the earth, to the energies that flowed through the world. The mastery of the runes could bestow incredible power, but it also required a profound understanding

"Jack wolf, please!" With a surge of adrenaline, Jack Wolf summoned every last ounce of strength. The spear shone brighter, its power surging through him like a river of light. Eryndor's eyes widened in surprise as Jack Wolf's grip tightened, the spear's tip pressing deeper into his chest. The dark magic swirling around him began to falter. Eryndor stood on his ground. The air was electric with the clash of steel and the scent of sweat and blood. Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss.

“The wand chooses you.” I snapped him a look, unsure of what he meant. But as if on cue, one of the wands in the case began to tremor and my eyes instantly found it against the back corner, hidden beneath another wand. The wand looked to be made of the same wood that Damiens’ wand was made of, and it was about the same size. It had a black handle with multiple colored chakra stones wedged into it. I gasped when I saw the colors of them. I recognized them instantly as the colors of my mate's eyes.

This represented the combining of their responsibility for their whole pack. Sebastian held out his hand to Raven and lifted her up onto the bank of this very hidden and sacred pool of enchanted water. The high priestess walked over to them and picked up a bowl of blood. She placed a wand made with feathers on the end into the bowl. She flicked the feather wand at them. Blood spattered onto their faces and chests. She placed crowns made of Lycan fangs of their ancestors, gemstones from the enchanted forest, feathers and leather banded.