Romans & histoires The Necromancer

With the arrival of the Elven priest and his entourage, Master Adret Morningstar and the Elven mage returned to Elven Island on the same ship. Although the Mage Tower has been completed, it currently lacks a Tower Spirit, which can be thought of as an intelligent central control computer, so it has only the most basic functions. The tower ghost must be activated by the mage himself, using the spell "Animate Object" in conjunction with a magic array. Whoever activates it will become the mage's familiar, so Christine must cast the spell herself and wait until she has gradually advanced.

I barely make a sound but just to be sure, I also activated a spell that will ensure he won’t be able to smell or sense me. At the bottom of the grand staircase, he turns right, toward the old museum annex I’d once helped design. It’s filled with relics and curiosities: swords, banners, magical artifacts, even a petrified lycan’s paw. But he doesn’t seem interested in any of those. Instead, he kneels on a display rug and removes it, showing a thick, iron-banded trapdoor that leads to the basement. He then unlocks it with a key hanging from his necklace.

There's been no humanity left in my older brother for almost three years now. Elio loses his balance, and I rush forward to pick him up. He reeks of alcohol and tobacco. My older brother starts laughing darkly and snaps his fingers to the side. Before we know it, a housekeeper comes out of nowhere and hands my brother a cane. The cane is a perfect reflection of him. Black steel with no decoration whatsoever. Cold, icy, and empty on the inside. My eyes remain on the pommel, eliciting yet another laugh from Elio. So I finally look up at him, and his glassy eyes continue to stare back at me.

White nine-tailed foxes are bound to destroy the world if not destroyed. Her smile and heart were still not under my influence after killing all her family, after every person I threw her way and she loved, left her, she remained pure and beautiful, she was nowhere near evil like he would want to make her just to prove his point. She carelessly wandered on the fields. The beautiful face that, he, so much wanted to make his, never had any sign of hate painted on it. He had tried to destroy her soul over and over and over again. He had tried to darken her whole damn life. But all she had around her is brightness. And it infuriated Ajax more than anything in the world. It seemed impossible to h

I resisted the urge to give in and pushed away the fingers clawing at my mind. I looked at the other two. Both Dudley and Maurice’s movements had become stiff and slow-paced, their limbs moved as if weighted down. Their eyes were pitch-black and their faces were frozen in a grimace of stark terror. They had turned around and were coming for me, fighting to stop themselves, but unable. How was he controlling them? He was a necromancer. He couldn’t control the living only the... and suddenly it all made sense. How long had we been dead?

Her hair was lank and lusterless, falling around her like strings of rotting straw. A cauldron bubbled slowly in the corner, leaving off the most infernal and rancid vapors. Bits of frogs’ legs, bat wings and eyes of newt were scattered around the floor of the cave. Her lupine eyes, savage and cunning, only came to life when she muttered certain arcane words from a spell. They perched above her hawkish and hooked nose. From it sprang the most preposterous wart. It was at least the size of a saucer. It would have been funny if the scene wasn’t so Stoker-esque.

He must have been able to hear it or something, because the moment it starts, his eyes snap up and lock on mine and I'm frozen in place, both of us staring at one another and waiting for whatever is going to happen next. "Abaddon, do you want to go into the cupboard for a quicky before next class?" Tasha's voice resounds around the corridor and the spell breaks, my gaze flicks to her, finding her watching me with a smirk on her face as she tugs Abaddon towards the large cupboard behind them.

Ahlum said, regaining her posture, going back to join Sir Zuka and others while all of them turned to Katastrofi again, prepared for his next attack. “You shall regret your actions now.” Snarling, he tapped his scythe again and called upon another dimension to the real world, much harder and darker than the one they had faced till now. “Requiem Of Blood.” Upon casting this spell, the night grew darker with crimson shades, horrifying everyone when the scarlet clouds began to emerge as from them Angels of death emerged. In their black robes, faces hidden and holding the scythe to steal the souls of whoever skin they would graze.

She was the strongest witch from her clan, and I was her powerful hybrid child, until they came. The witch who had prepared the Anthurium must have known who I was, and surely had enough grudge against me and my mother to go to that lengths. To perform such a strong potion, a sorcerer must be willing to sacrifice a decade worth of their power - for a decade they will have no power and be unable to conjure up spells and someone had willingly done that in exchange for our death. I was going to find that person, and I was going to make death the easy way out for them. I flung the dead squirrel as far as I could, and with the back of my hand, I wiped my mouth before turning slowly to Damon. A wh

she asked, with furrowed brows and glistening eyes. “The moment we stepped in the cave” answered Hector, hoarsely. “Oh”… Among their useless chatter, David Crotina walked to the dead body of the stray and noticed a strange pattern on his neck. A circle, with a straight line piercing through it tattooed in black in ink. It was familiar. He had seen this before. His fingers traced it and he realised it wasn’t an ordinary tattoo. It was a spell. A shadow magic spell. “Alexis come over here!” David called.