Spiral Colours Novels & Stories

Not unless it was buried inside me—waiting for blood to dig it out. It doesn’t look like any wolf sigil. It’s not a fang. Not a crescent. Not a claw. Not something tame. It’s a spiral. The same one I drew. The same one that carved itself into my mother’s bones. And it glows with a deeper color than magic should ever allow. Not gold. Not silver. Not moonlight. It's red. Arterial. Vein-deep and screaming. The prisoner jerks hard against his restraints, panic slicing across his face for the first time.

Searching. But there’s no one here to receive it. “Thank the gods she didn’t walk past this,” Cerelia says. “I’m not sure it would’ve waited for proximity,” I say. “I think it wanted resonance.” “What does it do?” I look at the spiral again. And finally say what I’ve been afraid of since we saw the first one. “It marks magical bloodlines,” I whisper. “Not just to track them. To unravel them.” Cerelia pales. “You mean—”

There were 5 types of spirits in total distinguished by colors, in ascending order, according to their respective powers — pink, blue,yellow, green and purple spirits. The first was 'pink spirits' or in other words the most normal and common spirits found in that world. Pink spirits were called 'The spirits of defense', indeed as the name suggests, the spirits could manifest different kinds of barriers, walls or even a sphere but no larger than 5-metres radius.

I pleaded to him with my eye gesture praying he understood my point. I guess he understood me, cause he blink his eyes at me in an assuring manner "Speak up!" The Alpha said coming closer toward us "His sickness has no cure" "What???" The Alpha ask looking shocked, for a blink, I saw her eyes flick colors but they changed back to their normal colors immediately "What do you mean?" Alpha Sheila further inquired. "Your majesty his sickness is rare and if he must live, there is only one way"

I hear the gasps of the sprites, but they continue to remain silent, not saying a word. When I’ve pulled the light as far as I think I need it to go, I cast a spell to hold it in the air. I look up and tell Xander that he can let go. He does slowly, as if he thinks the light will drop and when he steps back, the look on his face if very similar to that of the sprites, awe and wonder. I start at my end and begin coloring the rectangle in the colors of the rainbow, red moving to orange, shifting to yellow, darkening to green then to blue and indigo and finally violet. I step back looking over my rainbow of light before casting the final spell.

These magic cores were embedded into the walls of the cultivation room. The nine had also mentioned that the magic cores that were fitted into the room were all extremely valuable. According to them, they could last till Mane reached the nobility realm! Majority of them were orange in color, with the minority being red. For magic cores, their colors determined their purity. Coincidental or not, the colors of magic cores were based on the colors of the rainbow. The colors were as follows, in descending order of magnitude- red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Violet cores were the lowest ranked cores, with the highest being red colored cores.

It was one of the reasons Raphael had decided to deal with them specifically by using cures from the same family as the toxins, they just worked more efficiently that way. The belief was that the bolder colours we're usually toxins, like dark red, royal blue, golden yellow while the softer ones were cures except for Mandrake which had no bold or soft side. White was usually just white except you considered off white which by the way to Mages, was totally off and deserved to be given a different name entirely. "When do we get there?" Tank questioned snapping Raphael out of his thoughts.

The glade no longer merely glowed—it gathered. Light sloped inward from leaf and stream and air, pooling where their hands met, as if the world had decided to tip itself toward this one point. The tripartite radiance—silver, viridian, pelagic blue—tightened into a spiral and began to turn. Not fast. Purposeful. The hum beneath their feet rose half a note, and every living thing in the clearing adjusted itself to the pitch: petals cupped, roots loosened, the stream slowed as though listening.

The spiral lingered longer this time, almost forming a face, a mouth, something that opened and closed in silent hunger before vanishing into the lamp-lit air. "Counterfeit." My voice came out hoarse, the suppression chains drying my throat, slowing my thoughts. "The Duskbane spiral curves left to right, following the setting moon. These curve right to left. They're reversed." Aurel looked at me, and behind his spectacles something shifted, a reverence that made my skin prickle more than the chains ever could. "You see it." "I feel it in my teeth. In the place where my magic lives." I stepped closer, the chains clanking against the marble. "It's like hearing a song played backward. The notes

He drew a small symbol. He held it up. A spiral. But open. Not closed. The beginning of a spiral. Not yet complete. "The arriving spiral," he said. "For things that are on their way." He paused. "When they arrive they become the full spiral." He paused. "Category eight." He paused. "But right now they're the arriving spiral." He paused. "Still becoming." I looked at the symbol. At the open spiral. At the beginning of a category eight that had not arrived yet.