Spellmonger Series Novels & Stories

Memories of his father must have flooded his mind at the sight of his most precious asset. Nodding at Ragnor, Xee opened the book and flipped through the pale pages. He moved to the second part of the book which contained information about witch's spells. Ragnor helped Xee to sift through hundreds of spells and they stopped at the portion where body-related spells were scribbled. My heart picked a beat as I read the headings such as mind-crippling spell, numbing spell, maddening spell, and so on. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I kept reading.

It must be hard tumbling around in someone's pocket. "Now, we don't have much time," Owlyn spoke again. "The Groundsler would come looking for us here. You have to break the spell." "I told you I don't know how to..." "It's the poem," this time it was the frog who spoke. Cassandra tossed the frog from her hands with a yelp of surprise. She still hadn't gotten used to her speaking ability yet, and it freaked her out. In fact, after the fear of death wore off, Cassandra started to view the frog with the same squeamish uneasiness again.

Yet in my heart I know the truth, I flash back to the images I saw on the paintings in the castle, during my wandering. Now it makes sense! The Royal family are the dragons of old. It was always them, but why they lost the ability to change is a mystery. However, in each of those portraits the eyes were the common link between the human and the dragon. Lilli! I'm staring at my Lilli! As that realisation crashes through me she moves away and growls, then someone shouts. “Stay away from me beast!” She lets out an angry roar and grabs something, it takes me a moment to realise that she has caught Lance, just as his gun lands on the floor.

*Soleil* The howl of a wolf rips through the forest again. For a moment everything is silent as the grave, before yelling and noises come crashing in on me. Halfway panicked I try to remember what Tjalfe told me. The spell. Why did I say that I remembered the spell ? I can't remember it. "Tjalfe I need you, are you here ?" I yell, my heart hammering like a jackhammer and I have a hard time breathing.

Shit, don tell me he’s a. “That’s right, you imbecile, I am a lycanthrope! Or, what you humans commonly call a werewolf.” Garth spat after reading my thoughts. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Although I have no idea how you came up with such a vile sounding name.” His piercing eyes bore into mine. “You are a slayer, I am a lycanthrope and she is a vympire.” “A vympire?” I said. “You mean, vampire, don’t you?”

As she had noticed me trying to say the spell correctly. The woman's voice repeated the incantation, guiding me through its intricate nuances. Slowly, I began to mutter the words, their weight settling upon my tongue. " Vendrevious mgeheridous," With each utterance, the air around us crackled with energy, and my amulet began to glow with increasing intensity. As the final syllable left my lips, Rona's eyes widened in astonishment. My amulet radiated a blinding light, illuminating the room and revealing an image suspended within the glow. It was Rurac, his eyes filled with determination, poring over a massive book that looked quite old and dusty.

But I never put food in here. I got the little vial out of one of the bags. It was granny's blood. I could use her blood to cast spells. I pulled out some parchement and started painting the spell she told me. Soulstorm. I chose the simplest combination of the 9 letters. It wouldn't be the most powerful, but it takes too much time to design. This spell sounded bad ass. It took me a few minutes to finish. I dropped a few drops of granny's blood on the spell before I put away the vial.

*** “Del-the-fucking-Spell.” Mary muttered as she stared at Deloris with recognition. Almost every upper-level warlock knew about the warlock whose expertise, when it came to spells, was legendary. Over a century ago, she’d fallen in love with a wolf and caused a massive uproar between her clan and the werewolves. There had been a fierce battle that had resulted in the death of the wolf that Del-the-Spell was in love with. Del had disappeared, never to be heard of again. “I see you’re still running with fleabags.”

We all stare at it in awe as rogues approach. ‘I wonder?’ May says as she pulls it out and holds it up. ‘The spells we read in the book of spells and hexes, Magnus!’ She says. I’m confused. I give May a strange look before another bone breaks. May steps out from the bushes, holds the stick high in the air, and yells ‘Tumultuous Volley!’ Thunder erupts, and dark clouds appear and swirl around high above the rogues. Tumultuous Volley is one spell in the book I had read. It summons a storm and strikes enemies down with lightning.

And when he saw what was inside, without hesitation, he left the treatise to himself, otherwise he probably would not have been able to obtain permission to study it. “Tome” (despite the small format, I wanted to call the book that way) bore a title in an approximate translation that sounded: “The beginnings of mind magic in all its diversity. Features of the impact on people, true werewolves and werewolves initiated, running with wolves, demons and ghosts. The full list of objects for the application of spells always plunged Lorenzo into shock. What was the difference between true and initiated werewolves remained a mystery, the possibility of mental influence on demons and ghosts seemed to