The Magic Christian Novel Novels & Stories

Perfect. Christiana reached up and pulled it from the wall. The room went quiet. She held it for a moment, staring at their faces. Then she dropped it. The frame hit the floor with a loud crack, glass shattering across the tile. People gasped. Someone shouted. But Christiana did not stop. She lifted her heel and brought it down on the portrait, crushing it further. "Ugly," she said. Then she turned and walked toward the exit. Voices erupted behind her. Shock. Outrage. Someone called her name, but she did not look back. She pushed through the doors and stepped outside.

The monastery had always smelled of incense and stone dust. Now it stank of smoke, blood, and ash. The sanctum was shattered. Walls cracked and wept dust. Fire hissed in scattered pools where alchemists’ flasks had burst. And bodies — Guild and beast alike — lay twisted across the floor, still steaming. Killian stood at the heart of it, shadows curling faint and restless around his boots, like hounds that refused to sleep. The others gave him space. Not respect — not yet. Fear. Awe. Hatred. They hadn’t decided what he was to them. Only that he wasn’t one of them anymore.

"You keep telling yourself that, nerd." "Don't call me that" He leaned over and mock-whispered, “I’m scared now." A server came by and we ordered our coffee, black for him, vanilla oat latte for me. Once they walked away, Christian leaned forward, elbows on the table, that ever-present smirk on his face. "So what is this book, anyway? Witchcraft for Beginners? How to Hex Your Ex?" I scoffed. "No, it's a comparative analysis on supernatural war tactics over the last two centuries. It goes into detail on Flare magic, territorial blood pacts, and..."

“Come to me! I’m like you. They won’t hurt you when you’re with me. Here, you’re safe.” I could hardly hear what Christian was saying, something about being right back, and I vaguely saw him close the door behind him. I closed my eyes tightly, looking past the images on the IAC, through the veil that hung between myself and the Jogging Path Killer, into the dark mind of a serial killer.

Follow me on I*: @crissaautora Hope you like it! A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE - MY PERVERTED DOCTOR RICARDO‘S POV If I could imagine the twist that would turn my life, maybe I would have thought twice before deciding to go back to Brazil. After living for eight years in Canada, the geographical and cultural differences became evident as Soon as I set foot at Rio de Janeiro airport. I didn't expect anyone to show up for me, but to my surprise, she was there: Alice, my beloved little sister. The only thing I thought about, throughout the flight, was hugging her and saying everything would be okay. But I knew you wouldn't. The cancer that had anathetised in Dad's liver had returned. I was a doctor and I

He pulled his hat low and left. Days later, a body was found by a frozen lake. His face was purple and unrecognizable from the cold. I recognized the jacket. It was the gift I gave Frank for our first anniversary. Livio covered my eyes as the news played. "Don't watch. You'll have nightmares." He turned off the TV, pulling me close. I smiled, "You're right. I won't watch it anymore." The End

“It’s really sweet.” An awkward silence stretched between us for a couple of minutes. Finally, I looked at her and decided to cut straight to the chase. “Viv, whatever you came to say, just say it.” Viv set the apple down and looked at me, her expression turning dead serious. “Nova, Christian has been doing terribly lately. He’s throwing every ounce of his energy into his work. Sometimes, he goes days without sleeping. He’s been hospitalized several times now.” I could easily picture it. Back then, after our father made those terrible mistakes and passed away, the government seized everything we owned. To rebuild a company from absolutely nothing in just four short years…

“I thought it would end with him. It wasn’t even entirely about revenge. I was trying to help them, free them… I should have never taken charge.” “‘Saint Christian was pulled from the river, and the good woman wept, for the boy was surely dead,” I quote our scriptures. “She laid him out in the chapel to rest, and miraculously – he awoke: a vessel of the divine itself, returned to spread His message.’” “Do desist with the hackneyed verse,” he groans, burying his face in the pillow. “That legend is entirely embellished nonsense.” “Why’d they think an undead demon was a saint?”

I swallow with difficulty, and only when I feel Dominic's heated gaze, did I look away. This is like a nightmare that has assumed form in the waking world, just to haunt me. I stayed rooted on the spot, contemplating a better distraction. “ Can we continue –” I mentioned to the priest who is as dazed as everyone else. “ Mommy!” Christian cried, with a sorrowful voice that left a surface level pain in my chest, fanning the embers of this background suffering and constant ache in my head. I'm about to signal Piper to do something when my eyes catches Roman discretely moving towards Christian. His face flashes before my eyes, pale, with sallow cheeks and, weak eyes.

BEFORE YOU READ Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin. Themes: Forbidden Romance, Priest/Parishioner, Age Gap, Sacrilege. This story explores the fine line between salvation and damnation. If religious themes mixed with explicit erotica make you uncomfortable, this confessional isn't for you. (***) Serena The sound of my heels clicked with a sacrilegious echo in the void of the church. It was late, the sun had already set, and the only lights left burning were the candles casting long, dancing shadows over the ancient wooden pews.