Stillwater Arcane Novels & Stories

Ancient tomes, black sealed ledgers, scrolls bound in silks the color of dried blood, enough dangerous magic to get them both executed in a dozen kingdoms, spilled across the map. I arched a brow. “Please tell me you didn’t get caught.” Tarin’s smirk widened. “Please. We’re ghosts. Besides, the Restricted Archives barely noticed we were there.” Thessaly snorted. “A librarian noticed.” “Barely,” Tarin said with a wave. I set my tea aside and pulled the nearest tome toward me. Black Court: Lineage and Rise. The cover alone radiated old, foul magic, the kind that whispered if you listened too long. “How much of their shit did you take?”

Arielle closed the curtains slowly, her palm lingering on the fabric as her lips curved into a grim, knowing smile. "You think I didn’t see you, Arnold… hiding in the dark like the coward you are.” She crossed the room to the small table where a folded cloth covered a faintly glowing stone. She brushed aside the cloth and gazed at the sacred relic. Its surface shimmered gently in her palms. Arielle stirred in silence at the same stone she had entrusted to Arnold in her past life… the mistake that had cost her everything. Her fingers brushed the glowing stone. “Not this time. The stone and the Book of Spells together can awaken the full power of my bloodline. I’ll find that book before you do

His eyes widened as the force of the magic overwhelmed him, his body being consumed by the raw energy. “No!” he screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the magic. The Heart, the very thing he had sought to control, had turned against him. With a final, desperate cry, Silas was torn apart by the magic. The light grew brighter, the energy coursing through the air, and then—**silence**. Lia collapsed to her knees, gasping for air as the golden light dimmed and the power within her settled. The storm of energy that had raged inside her was finally calm, but the aftermath of it left her weak, her body trembling from the force she had just unleashed.

And again. Now.. He placed his palm against the barrier. The ward reacted, unleashing a concentrated blast of arcane force directly into him. The explosion lit the morning sky. When the light cleared, Aldric still stood there. Armor scorched. Unmoved. His eyes shifted fully silver. “Break,” he whispered. The air around him compressed violently. Frost spiderwebbed across the barrier’s surface from the point of contact. Cracks, real cracks, formed through layers of enchantment that had not failed in centuries.

It didn’t take long before he reached the clearing. And there, on a stone slab, lay Vargr—eyes shut, still as death. His arm was torn open, a massive wound where flesh had been ripped away. The injury was too severe for any normal healing. The sight of it made Cedric’s breath catch—Vargr, a werewolf, was not healing. "I can’t believe this," he murmured, stepping closer, only to be slammed backward by an invisible force. The clearing was sealed—Arcana Involutus—a binding spell designed to block entry.

“Everything you've heard tonight is about to become more complicated.” Ragnar Frostbane's frosted breath curled through the air. “Excellent.” I almost smiled. “The five remaining anchors have synchronized.” Valerius's expression hardened. “What does that mean?” “The pressure carried by the first anchor is spreading through the ancient structure.” A witch near the back spoke. “Can we stop it?” “No.” The answer caused several voices to rise. I lifted my hand. “We cannot stop the Hollow Arc.” The gathering fell silent. “We can preserve what it has not taken.” That landed differently. Not victory or conquest but survival.

A burning pain flared at her ear as a chill of death seeped into her body through her pores, causing her meridians to throb with pain. "Pfft—" Amelia staggered back several steps, suddenly spitting out a mouthful of blood. This time, she could no longer suppress the turmoil within her body. The deathly energy of the Arcane Skill of the Netherworld clung to her like a festering sore. Once it invaded, it would ravenously consume her internal energy and corrode her meridians. She could clearly feel her strength draining at an alarming rate, and even began to experience slight dizziness.

It was unlikely we would both be allowed to pair with each other, but it wasn't impossible. "Silence," Mrs. Periwinkle said, and everywhere quietened. Despite her advanced age, her voice carried powerful commands that couldn't be resisted. With just one word, every student would stop whatever they were doing. So, aside from being tagged as the duck, she was the grand witch of Mystic Academy.

"This is the Resonance Stone. It's a sacred relic that's been around for over 1,000 years. It measures your level of arcane power and which realm you've reached. "All you have to do is place your palm on the symbol at its center and channel your energy. The stone will light up a different color depending on your level—yellow for Awakening, green for Foundation, blue for Core Formation, purple for Great Decator, scarlet for Arcane High Priest, and the legendary crimson Light of Ascension, which even I've never seen in my lifetime." The crowd sucked in a breath the moment he finished. A lot of the younger practitioners stared at the stone like it was everything they'd ever dreamed of.

It takes a few moments before he comes to the passage that he needs. The title of this chapter is called: “The Arcane Realm.” This chapter describes another dimension that is full of power that the creatures of Sky World call the Arcane. The passage goes on to note what this realm is, an untapped and unending source of power. With the power of curiosity, all creatures in the realm have been able to call upon this power, transferring their mana into a spell via a conduit. Troy turns the page that explains the transference spells and conduits. His pointer finger slides down the transference spells that mainly deal with movement such as transportation as well as contraptions that use arcane mag