The Magician's Own Book Novels & Stories

"Some magicians cast spells on their belongings to prevent malicious people from having access to them." "But I'm not a malicious person," I counter. Genevieve nods. "Yes. That's why you're still able to speak right now." My eyebrows raise in surprise. Looking down at the book, I contemplate whether I should pick it up just yet. "Go ahead," Genevieve encourages. I reach for the book and it doesn't hurt me this time. I look at both of them, smiling in my small victory. The cover page is plain and black in colour. Turning to the front page, there are inscriptions in a strange language.

A book came out along with his hand, both fully intact. “The Courage to Trust,” by Dr. Franklin Reed. He had to be joking. There were hidden cameras here somewhere, I just knew it. No fucking way was the god of wolves cracking open a self-help book from the mortal realm. Sure enough, he fanned through the book eagerly, skipping over several chapters in the process. The tip of his tongue appeared from between his plump lips. He found the page he’d been looking for and quickly skimmed it. With a satisfied hum, he chucked the book behind his shoulder where it was swallowed up by that strange, shimmering magic.

“I’d be doing a terrible job if I let everyone’s grubby fingers all over it. The magiks around it preserve the book but still allow it to be read.” “Amazing,” I said as she gently floated the book towards me. I lifted my hand as if to pull back the cover and the hazy purple shadows did it for me. I blinked in response. Magiks were still so new to me. The librarian clearly noticed. “Your family doesn’t use much high magiks, do they?” I shook my head. “Not while I was around, at least.” The librarian hummed. Then, she swiped her hand over the book. Instantly, all of the strange symbols and letters on the first page shifted and became plain English. I looked up at her and she smiled.

Even her way of speaking had changed. “I noticed your magic is golden, the same color as our fur. Is it because of the book?” She took my hands, smiling calmly. “Yes and no. The book is a conductor of magic. It provides me with the necessary spells and has a will of its own, creating new enchantments as new events occur. Damares and Gaia couldn’t explain exactly how, but the magic is still tied to its original owner and now to me, since I give it flow.” “Can it track us?” I looked at her, alarmed.

There were modern novels, too, including Stephen King and Sidney Sheldon, but they didn't look as well read as some of the others. Dante moved up behind her and gripped her shoulders, kneading them gently just as her fingers tripped over a copy of Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy. "You read a lot." "I do," he said. She slipped her fingers onto the shelf surface, her fingers making a mark in the thin layer of dust there. Just as she began to turn, she noticed another mark in the dust, as though something normally sat there but had been moved. "Why don't you," he began, pushing her back against the shelf, making it teeter slightly, "go take off some of these clothes while I change the sheet

It was a struggle to channel the immense power of the stone, but Magnus’s resolve was unwavering. “Rum og tid, afslør din hemmelighed,” he continued, his voice echoing through the hallowed space. “Vis mig, hvad der er blevet skjult, afslør sandheden, og lad mig se.” As he completed the incantation, the very fabric of reality seemed to ripple and warp around him. Time itself became a fluid concept, and Magnus felt himself drawn into a swirling vortex of visions and glimpses of the future. Images flashed before his eyes—Constantine, resplendent as the new Supreme Sorcerer, addressing the coven with promises of change and unity. But beneath the surface, there was darkness, a malevolent force th

"The second that you are not needed anymore, he is going to slaughter you all without a second thought." The robed man glared at me. "I don't have time for your lectures," he said angrily. "Last chance, turn the witch over to us, now." The other sorcerers lifted their hands as if ready to cast their magic on us. I didn't even give them the chance and sent out a single word through our link. 'Attack.'

he gritted out. Ignoring the confused calls behind him, he strode toward the exit. Not toward Rita—never toward Rita—but past her, close enough to catch the hurt flash in her eyes when he didn't so much as glance her way. The guilt twisted sharp in his gut, but he pushed forward. If this was magic, he'd break it. If it wasn't... Then what? his wolf challenged. Nathan shoved through the library doors with too much force. He didn't care. He'd tear apart every damn book on witchcraft if he had to.

I tried to once again open it but stopped once I realized it wasn’t going to budge. “Okay... From the books I read on magic and dark magic if I want to get started with it I have to give up something of myself… It must be talking about blood since I don’t know what else I could give up from myself.” I lift a needle that I stole from Mae sewing kit and stab myself in the finger with it.

Suddenly, the book flipped open and the pages began to flutter back and forth. I stood up in shock, knocking my chair over as I did. The sound of the chair clattering against the floor broke Miriam from her thoughts. She grinned as she saw the book, laying open to a page labeled "Hybrids". "Miriam." I sputtered. "What was that? That book just moved and flipped pages on its own. That's not any kind of fae magic I've ever seen." She looked at me, amusement in her eyes. "I told you, it's my book, it responds to me. I'm spirit fae, and while I may not know much about what that means, I do know that I have a connection to dark magic."