Wizard Books Novels & Stories

*** “It’s called The Mending Vale. This is where ancient witches used to come to help gather energy from each other. Or to heal any one of them. It’s why you came…To be healed.” “How can this place heal?” “Because every witch who’s ever lived left remnants of her energy here. And like the plants and trees around us, those seeds of energy grow into bits with the strength of trees. Capable of great magic. You came to connect into that like a wick being lit.” “I didn’t know that about this place.” “Very few do. But it doesn’t change the fact that your spirit knew. Your magic does.” “I have no magic.” She chuckled softly in a way that told me she thought otherwise. “You’ll see soon enough, Dear.

, he tells pointing towards one clay tablet which has letters written in old Latin language which is different than the evolved Latin which humans know, being a witch I clearly understand and can read it since my childhood. “usus vulpis rubri mortui sanguinis ad tollendum venenum e lamia efficax est cum sol corpus ferit”, I read it out loud unconsciously deep in the thoughts. I remember seeing few vampires coming and leaving my parents work place when I was young, but I didn’t knew that witches and wizards used to note down these things when they have photogenic memory and they teach others practically making medicines than giving notes. “What was that?”, Dr Wilson asks curiously to which I

Did she have ancestors from there several generations back that she just didn't know about? And most of all, what did any of it have to do with the very strange book she'd found, Legends of the Werewolf. The binding was ancient leather, now frayed in many places, and the lettering in gold. The other night when she finally opened it she expected to read about the history of werewolves and how that history came to be. Instead, to her shock, the stories were about shapeshifters, people who could change into the shape of a wolf. Whole villages apparently had that ability and when danger presented itself they shifted into their wolf shape, gathered as a pack and disappeared.

Alice was going to ruin her plans if she wasn't stopped. Hazel immediately went to where a book was and picked it up. She started to flip through it but stopped. It was a book filled with spells of forbidden magic. The more she used it the more she would lose herself the more. Forbidden magic was forbidden for a reason. She had an extent she was supposed to use the book too and it was getting to that extent she could feel it but she didn't care anymore. Alice was a child of light and could easily subdue her darkness. She needed to be stronger.. She started to flip through the book again and stopped at a certain pain…

“Soon, our Intermediary came to fetch us; he told us we were all needed to put out the fire which was getting out of control.” When Roark mentions the Intermediary, there are some growls and thumping of feet. The Intermediaries are the lower magical beings–witches and wizards who have extremely limited magical abilities. Werewolves are not allowed to interact directly with the higher witches and wizards, such as the Venusian Witches. We are only allowed to talk to the Intermediaries, who then convey our requests to their higher-ups. And that’s why the fact that I’m sheltering Princess Avalea is so enormously dangerous. I’m breaking the most rigid rule, just like Connor did. But Connor didn’t

It seemed to radiate a faint magical aura. Curiosity getting the better of them, Alex picked up the book. Its cover was adorned with intricate runes and symbols, and the title read, "The Chronicles of Destiny: A Hero's Journey." The pages within were filled with tales of chosen heroes who had risen to face great challenges. As they read through the stories, a sense of connection and purpose washed over Alex. It was as if these heroes from different realms were speaking directly to them, urging them to embrace their own destiny. With the book in hand, Alex sought the wisdom of the town's sage, Mrs. Evelyn, known for her knowledge of the mystical and arcane. She lived in a cozy cottage on the

And by preferring to engage in a battle of bruised egos with me, he was playing into my hands and he had no idea about it. A few weeks after I found out the Mayerts had accepted my offer of help and that they were coming here to sign the deal like I wanted, I was fortunate enough to meet a witch here in the pack. She hadn’t been in practice for over a decade but she still commanded a great deal of power, one talk led to another and she assured me she had a way to solve my problems without the need for war. She gave a book passed down from the great witches from her coven, the Book of Impossible Tasks written by the first witch of the North. No supernatural creature had ever been able to pass

A blacksmith swore loyalty to the crown— And the metal in his forge softened like wax without heat. None of it catastrophic. None of it violent. But undeniable. The laws of magic were bending. Not because Lily commanded it. Because her existence was recalibrating the field. Luke stood in the war chamber staring at reports spread across the table. “Spontaneous manifestation,” one general muttered. “Localized distortions,” said another. “Divine contamination,” whispered a priest. Lily stood at the center of the room, silent.

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The moment Hylda came into the picture and put Sadie to death the tradition had died with her. The witch's quarters looked old and worn down from years of neglect. Sadie was long gone by the time she had even been permitted to enter the pack house but she'd heard from the older generations what it used to be like. The walls apparently had a glow to them from the amount of magick in the room. There was rumored to be a large crystal sat in a well, center of the room where the users would replenish themselves. Foliage decorated the room making it look like a green house with work stations set up. Large wooden work tables covered in rare ingredients and spells books from past generations lay on