Novel & Cerita Witchcraft Languages

Chapter 6 I turned back to the creature. “Is that true?” I asked him. “It is, we have been speaking in Whisper. It’s a long lost Fae language and has been dead for longer than it ever existed.” He replied. “How is it that I know this language? I have never spoken it, and I feel like I’m only speaking my own language right now.” I stammered. “Have them release me, I will show you.” He said.

“Well, lass, what is a Maclaren doing on Balfour land? Do you not know of the feud between us?” She looked down, not saying anything. He spoke in thick Gaelic, or perhaps even Dragonish. She couldn’t be certain, but her power allowed her to understand what he was saying even if she didn’t know what language he spoke. It was one of the few benefits of being a witch that was innate in nearly every magical being she had ever met. They knew how to speak languages they had never heard, likely able to read the intent behind the communication more than the words themselves. “Perhaps she is daft,” said the warrior standing on the right side of the one with the bright green eyes.

Kelly instructed after she made sure Greta had the stone. Greta didn’t believe anyone would leave. There’d been too many things happening in town for these people not to want to see it to the end. “I’m sorry, but I’m forced to read this part out in the old tongue because I didn’t have time to translate it. I translated the other parts to make it easier for you. That shouldn’t change the ritual in any fashion.” With the grimoire from the cabinet propped up on a stone, Kelly began by reading something out loud. It was definitely not in English and, to Greta’s surprise, it wasn’t in Latin either. This language, whatever it was, she’d never heard before and it made Greta wonder why this graceful

“I have never seen a…maker? Is that the right word?” “Sure. Why not?” Aldric smiles. “We don’t have a word for it in English.” “Oh. What word do you use?” “Not a word a phrase. Akabdat bri pyrei flopdat.” I stare at him. I’ve heard the language before, but I don’t have a name for it. “What language is that?” “Navjahi – the vampire language.” “What does it mean? What you just said?” “The closest English translation is Creator of the Undead.”

The idea was that the White Witch would attempt to communicate with the Moon Goddess and once that was done, my mate would be revealed to me. I sat in the centre of all the candles, runes, and diagrams waiting for something to happen. Then the White Witch began her incantation. She was speaking in a language if I was to put a date on it might date back millions of years to before werewolves walked the earth. The words, though they made no meaning to me, drew my ears in to listen as if I was supposed to somehow relate to the rhythm.

It is the language of the wolf. My eyes widened. “Myrathi…” I repeated, almost reverently, like tasting the word on my tongue. “The old wolf tongue, that's our language.” Marcus nodded, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I didn’t know what it meant at first. But I’m a stubborn person. So I got all the books I could find on wolves and I started digging, and when I started I couldn’t stop. I bought books, scrolls, anything I could find online or in dusty little shops. At first, it was just symbols and gibberish. I thought I was wasting my time. But then… somehow… I started picking it up faster than I should have. Words started making sense. Sentences formed.” He looked down at his hands, alm

“Not just a witch, you are the Damel” “Rudina turned around and sat down. She looked at the witch but she refused to make eye contact with Rudina. “Guess I have to figure this out on my own” she muttered to herself. She took the spell book and began to read through. At first she knew what she was doing but then the words Began to confuse her. The words were in English and then suddenly right before her eyes, they would switch to Latin. She didn’t know how to speak Latin well enough, not to talk of reading it. She ran her hands through her hair as she sighed deeply.

Her voice startled me, I had almost forgotten I wasn't alone. “No.” I stepped aside. “What language is it?” “The ancient witch's code.” My eyes widened at her words. The ancient witch's code was the language used by the ancient witch clan, dating back to a thousand years. “I've tried to read it for years but I can't seem to break the code.” She said, carefully flicking through the pages. “Legend says it's been locked by the ancient witches and can only be read by one they permit.” I was no stranger to that law. Stories about the ancient witches and their code were told to us as young warlocks. It was basic witch's knowledge.

I change into a pair of leather pants and a bra strapping my sword to my waist. While I'm changing, Flavius wanders around the room, lightly brushing his fingers across the many bookshelves I have carved out of the mountain wall. "When I thought of your room, I never thought of so many books. I thought it would be full of weapons and armor," he says jokingly. "I love to read, honestly," I respond. "I’m surprised, though; you even have books written in other languages," he remarks. "There is a lot of great literature that came from the elves and the fae. As a dragon, I am fluent in all languages. I only have to hear the language once, and I can speak it," I tell him nonchalantly.

Lihont whispered, his voice sounding extremely weird, like someone else was speaking through him. He raised his hands toward the full moon and began reciting some strange spells and scary chants. “Haulaurow Drequito bregavidaras Masstre tanwirop faeraq!” The words were from a language that no one could understand and the Dark Lord was the one whispering the words into Lihont's ear. The air around the mansion immediately became chilly, turning so cold that the breath of the soldiers in the field came out like white clouds.