The Alchemist Novel Original Language Novels & Stories

he said quietly, “doesn’t match anything in the Royal Archive.” I kept my voice light. “Maybe it’s an old dialect. From… further west?” Why was it English? And the name was too Earthy. Alaric frowned, not buying it completely, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned in closer. “What does it say?” “Mostly spells,” I murmured, flipping the pages slowly. “Some necromantic theory. Journal entries.” Alaric’s gaze sharpened. “Journal entries?” “Yeah.” My eyes scanned one. The script was smooth, casual. There were spell diagrams, summoning circles, notes about magic ingredients. And between them… lists. Daily thoughts. Entire paragraphs written like someone had lived through days and nights with thi

Opening it, he reveals pages covered in script that seems to writhe and change as I look at it. "This is the Codex of Becoming," Vex says. "It speaks of the Convergence. But the text is... difficult. It was written in the Mother's own language, and translation is imperfect at best." I lean closer, and as I focus on the words, they begin to make sense. My dreamweaving translates them instinctively, pulling meaning from the chaos.

The intensity of her gaze, mirrored by the others, made it clear they were curious about what had occupied my time, especially since it wasn’t a large volume. “What’s the title?” I shrugged. “History.” “History of what?” Sinclair asked, stepping closer to me, with the others following suit. I turned to the cover of the book, furrowing my brows when I saw an entirely different name in a language I didn’t know, yet somehow understood: ‘The True History of the Supernaturals and Gods.’ “How do you know it says history? The language is one we don’t know; it’s the one written on the caves,” Rachel remarked, a glint of jealousy flashing in her eyes.

The book opened on its own and pages quickly flipped until the desired page was found. Then she passed it over to me. The book was very old, ancient even, but was protected from deterioration by magic. It was not written in English, but I was still able to understand it somehow. I would question that part later on. ‘Energy Cage for Gods and DemiGods’ was the title of it.

Once I reached home I had already prepared myself to open it but I had to savour the moment of having the first magic book in the world. It was created by the first ever sorcerer, Gwydion the first. He had created this book of spells for the future generations of sorcerers but sorcerers and sorceresses got extinct ever since the plague. A wizard, Alizon, translated the book in such a way that any magic-possessing creature would be able to use the book effectively. The book was said to be lost after the first war of the Seven kingdoms. But it wasn't, Alizon hid it in Udhanba, one of the Seven kingdoms, in an abandoned temple and was killed right after that.

Empty. Good. No whispers. Just rows of books that smelled faintly of dust and old leather. I drifted between shelves, trailing my fingers along worn spines. “Herbs of the Southern Marsh,” “Defense Spells of the Fifth Era,” “Principles of Alchemy.” My guards hovered like anxious statues. And then— I stopped. My hand froze on a spine I hadn’t seen in years. The leather was scuffed, the gold lettering half-burnt, but my heart recognized it before my mind did.

The book is covered by brown leather and has written on it ‘Xeito de Lite’. She opens the book and finds that the content is written in Galician, a language she never learned to read. The language has been used mostly by royals and the very wealthy. The priest standing by the alter, left, heading to the front of the cathedral. Amelia takes the opportunity to stand up and slip behind the alter. She kneels down and feels the stone floor until she feels the edges of a trapped door. She carefully opens it and slips inside. Stone steps lead down to a dark dank tunnel, surrounded completely by stone walls. Amelia carefully walks down the tunnel until she sees a wider dungeon corridor, stretching d

I thought you’d want to take a look, just in case. Thank you, Nova, I said, looking at her axolotl. We walked into the library, and she asked for a small manuscript. The man is stiff, vampire maybe? Place it in front of us. I opened it. The first page was empty, and I turned one more page; the language was ancient. Reading out loud: the shadows will rise, and the darkness answers to one only, the real queen of the forgotten souls. Uhhhmm, Nova, I think you got the wrong book. It doesn’t say anything about Rune healing.

Although his goal was to become a battlefield divine smith, I had no interest in the military-related books he liked. The only thing that caught my attention was a very thick volume titled Contemporary Ultimate Alchemy. Unfortunately, it was placed on the far upper-right corner of the shelf. I dragged over a stool to reach it, but the book was so heavy that it slipped from my hands and nearly smashed my head when it fell. A pile of papers scattered all over the floor. I never expected Loki to read things related to alchemy.

The faint smell of sweet almonds and sulfur still lingered in the damp air, but the canvas wrapper was gone, and the small heap of dry thistles by the rock wall had been crushed flat by the boots of the guard. "Noah!" he roared, his voice cracking against the low roof as he scrambled to his knees, his bare chest heaving under the gray coating of dried mud and ash. He didn't find the boy. He found a small scrap of parchment torn from the back of the Alchemist's book, pinned to the flat stone by the sapphire ring he’d left in my palm. The ink was dark, smeared by the wet frost of the dawn, the three words written in the shaky, precise script of the Southern counting houses: The lie is finished