The Choice Of Magic Novels & Stories

"So. You finally beat me. Happy?" The wheel slowed. I stepped on the pedal and it spun again. "No." She tilted her head. "Why not?" I looked at the clay. "Twenty-six years, Grace. I was always second. He chose me once, and I'm supposed to feel like I've won?" She didn't answer. "Go home, Grace. I know I'll never be you. I don't want to be. You shine your way. I'll shine mine. It's small. But I can see it."

In my last life, I chose to marry Julian, the man I’d adored for years. He betrayed me and tormented me until my dying day. Reborn, I found myself back at the moment the Don asked for my choice. Without hesitation, I pointed to Damien, the man rumored to be a sickly cripple. "The choice has been made." I walked out of Don Alistair’s study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. The candlelight in the hallway flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

My magic had been part of me for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t simply something I could switch off. It had saved lives and it had protected my friends. It had helped us survive things ordinary wolves never could. But if giving it up meant saving everyone I loved… I already knew the answer. “Yes.” The door remained silent and I frowned. “That’s my answer.” “Why?” I looked down. “Because magic isn’t more important than people.” I took a breath. “If I had to choose between keeping my powers and watching the people I love die, I’d rather lose my magic.”

Aria’s fire, her defiance, her love so fierce it made the world shift around her. They had already been through hell. And this—this was the choice magic offered them? I shook my head slowly, disbelief turning into dread. “This can’t be it,” I murmured to the empty library. “This can’t be the only truth.” But the book did not argue. It simply lay there, ancient and unyielding, its pages filled with the bones of stories that had ended badly—stories where love was not enough to outrun magic designed to destroy it. My hands curled into fists against the table.

"The most suitable candidate, you can fail and may fail but you can rise and you may rise. Most men can never rise and will not rise because of who they are, because they do not possess the energy to and they were not chosen. But you, son, you're he, and you're chosen. The eras dissect and the periods intersect. The nexus of life is beyond human understanding." "I have chosen you to become the soul, the immortal soul that will bring to earth back the ERA OF MAGIC. " "What?! What did I just hear? I don't think I heard correctly, did I? Uhm sir, what did you just say?" Tom questioned. Nevertheless, his heart was beating wildly with joy and fear. This is what he had always dreamed about and yea

The dark threads around him began to unravel, burning away into ash. “Stop!” He shouted, voice breaking. “You don’t understand, BibiKamwe said…” “I don’t care what she said!” I roared. “You nearly killed him! You almost killed Edward!” That name snapped something inside him. His eyes blazed red for a heartbeat. “You always choose him.” “I was chosen,” I said quietly. “By fate. By the moon. Not by you. I love him.” He tried to rise, his magic clawing back, but I was faster. I raised my palm, and the air thickened with energy. He froze mid-step, a golden shimmer wrapping around him.

The walls that surrounded them, other bones, stone, wood, even Nio's own flesh. With so many dead bodies, there must have been more than one sorcerer in the room in front. Yes, Nio was worried. When faced with the magic of death, you had two choices. The first choice was to fight and pray that the magic would disappear before whatever was summoned killed you. That prayer, however, seldom worked. The second choice was to fight with life magic. Casting life magic would weaken the death essence or even kill the creatures if the wizard was powerful enough. On the battlefield, in the fight against the dead, it meant taking away the life essence from trees, animals, and sometimes even allied soldi

Dominicus’s fists are clenched. I stare at Eleanor, stunned. What?! My voice comes out softer than I expect—shaky, uncertain. “Ellen…” She looks at me quickly and shakes her head, eyes wide. “No, no, no. I’m not dying,” she says, holding her palms out in defense. “It’s not that. I swear it’s not that.” Dominicus doesn’t look convinced. Clearly, she has hidden too much from him that he refuses to believe her words. She probably understands as well and she rushes to explain. “The Primarch is chosen by magic itself. I’ll explain more about this later. But magic selects the one who embodies what it is. The one with the purest connection. The strongest light.”

The whole cave hums with it now, a sound I can feel in my bones. The flower’s almost gone. I know exactly what I have to do. It’s not fair. I want to get that flower. I want to be the one who saves everyone. I want to hand it to Eva like a trophy and tell her we fixed it. But I know magic. I know traps. And I know what this one’s asking for: A choice. It’s the same choice I was given in the purification chamber, disguised differently now, wearing new clothes. Choose power or choose people.

It was hand written. She went on, flipping the book and stopping to read through some parts of it. It was a book about spells and she found herself laughing at the silliness of the thought that magic was still in existence. Some of the spells in the book made Matilda to shake her head and conclude that the book had been written during the time that witches existed. Some of the recipes in the book had ingredients like a two day old crow's blood, the crushed bark of a cider tree, four leaved clovers, mint leaves that had bloomed in the summer and many other bizarre ingredients.