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Asher Sharol Biography

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“The centuries she had already lived had sobered her to the power of fate. There was a pervasive principle within which everything operated. As convincing as the idea of free will was, there was a constant, albeit subtle force directing events toward a particular end. She knew this intimately as she employed it almost every day: divination. Due to its complexity—as was also the case with other types of temporal magics— even she couldn't claim to know all its nuances. What she knew for sure was that there were different planes of consciousness and that the physical manifestation of the Triskai was one such realm, lying smack in the middle with some realms higher and some lower. Being so far removed from the highest plane of consciousness, people in the Triskai were always under the illusion that their thoughts and actions were made in real time when, in fact, they had already made those decisions in the higher, abstract realms. The decisions and actions simply cascaded down the tiers like a mental waterfall, presenting themselves as instantaneous deeds.”

DestinyFateMagicWitchesPredestination
Book:Bonds Of Chrome Magic
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“She was foolish to be walking alone at this ungodly hour when demi-gods like himself roamed in search of prey. He would pick this flower, uproot her from the soil. He would part her from her source of life. Her head, hands, and feet were the soft petals, her blood the sweet nectar. She walked by him, ignorant of the brutality that would soon befall her.”

MetaphorDeath And DyingWerewolvesLycansLycanthrope
Book:Vampires of Twilight Castle
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“Deep within the bowels of Imajinaereum, a Barbellite girl wept. Her warm tears slid across her face like tiny, slithering snakes. They drained and fell, infesting her already damp lap. The room around her was pitch black and so was her spirits: Black as coal. Serafina had never felt depression so profound. It was as if she couldn’t move, couldn’t eat. She could only sit in the dark and give birth to her colony of snakes. They bit her from the inside, infecting her with the poison of revenge. Joy long eclipsed, hate festered inside her like a sore that refused to heal. And this time she would let that cut decompose into something even more unsightly. Between sobs, Serafina reached for the razor beside her. The sharp blade was cold between her fingers. Deathly cold. Recent developments had catalyzed her pain and transformed it into something physical. Serafina contorted her torso as a marrow-deep ache threatened to lynch her. Soon, she would target the very source of her worries or die trying. The room seemed to darken as the thought blossomed inside her mind like a black flower. Then she reached for the bone-white scroll beside her. The parchment felt like the skin of a beast as she held it up before her face. Tonight she would set things in motion to murder her grandmother. In one quick jagged motion, Serafina slit her palm with the blade. She gasped at the sight of her blood flowing down her wrist. She felt only a prick. As her liberated blood dripped onto the parchment, she recited the words she had memorized years ago.”

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Author:Asher Sharol
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“In the middle of a battle on Candentis Academy, a silver snake slithered toward a crumpled form. No one saw its winding progress through the grass. Secrecy was the reason Princewell transformed: to travel unnoticed to his target. However, given the serpent’s almost glowing silver, anyone who did see him would probably realize it wasn’t just a snake but a man who had morphed. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Princewell was one of the few persons in the Triskai who could wield magic while in his animal form. Any unfortunate person who challenged him would make that fatal discovery when it was too late. But Princewell didn’t like to kill, not in the usual sense anyway. Killing blows, spells, and curses—he found all these methods too bland, unimaginative, and sacrilegious for his own taste. Death should be the climax of a long and complex symphony, and even then, it should not be the end. He had the ability to steal whatever afterlife his target was entitled to. He liked to entice human vices, pitting men one against the other. He enjoyed watching them destroying themselves within his binds of silver magic—his web of trickery. So confident was he in his abilities, that he would soon attempt to swindle an old god in his quest to achieve a status never before seen in history.”

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Book:Binds of Silver Magic
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“The path of a high tier sorceress was risky. On certain nights, Amonette found herself courting a stress that would break any normal human. Even with the spellwork she wove to bolster her frame, she was barely able to keep herself together, always teetering on the edge of sanity. Vain as it sounded, she would do well to establish some type of human bond. The light from the candles cast long shadows on the wooden walls as the compounds from them activated: jasmine, myrrh, cinnamon, and scents from trees indigenous to the Mersi forest— Hamallallia branches and flowers from the Asmodean Drachla. As Amonette waited for the composite fragrance to fill the room, she heaved her dress over her head, feeling the numbness setting into her muscles. It's about time to begin, she thought. Amonette shivered slightly against the cold breeze nipping at her naked, ever desensitizing flesh. The light was just bright enough to reveal the sigils snaking the length of her stomach and torso-- lines carved into her flesh in moments when the spirit of Satharchon occupied her entirely. She was his most loyal, and hence she was blessed to hear his voice in her head on occasion, counseling her. She hoped he would find her entire body fit to occupy tonight.”

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Book:Bonds Of Chrome Magic
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“Mr. Bode piped, “Just to reiterate the specifics. We want the magical essence of the Quintet to reveal themselves through their spirit keys. So, Helloise, you can do half now and complete it at the height of the Taurunox so it has maximum effect. That should be just shy of ten when the students are enjoying their last dance.” Mrs. Vee nodded, closed her eyes, and proffered her arm with the blue Obiscule in her palm. Mr. Bode spoke again. 'Oh, and before you proceed, Helloise. I apologize for the inconvenience, but when we do identify the Blood Quintet, we will all be on bodyguard duty for the night at their homes just to ensure they're fine throughout the duration of the meteor shower." Mrs. Vee huffed. “Rather annoying. But I guess I see the sense in it. I’ll be using my alternative form, however. Surely, that’s permitted in these…special circumstances.” Mr. Bode glanced at Mr. Bruce, who nodded. "Yes, you may morph,” Bode said. “But I warn… you may be subject to fierce attacks from the enemy. I say that to say that it is not my prerogative to tell you not to use forbidden spells." Each of them nodded in agreement. Mr. Bruce added. “Kat. You’re the most inexperienced here. If there’s anything you will need before the vigil then I’m sure you can approach any of us here. Yes?” "Got it." Ms. Nash nodded, her fingers trembling under the table. “Please proceed, Helloise,” Mr. Bruce ordered. Mrs.Vee inhaled deeply before enunciating a melodious five-lined incantation that could pass for a nursery rhyme. Seconds later, her blue orb emitted five strands of flaccid, spaghettified blue light which fell down over her palm like a quintet of luminescent shoe-laces. Without warning, the light laces stiffened and shot off in different directions. The room glowed momentarily as the light inside the orb flickered like a flame in the wind. Finally, Mrs. Vee uttered a single word, pitching the room once more into semi-darkness. “Done,” she said, sitting. Mr. Bruce gave her a half-hearted clap. “Brilliant.”

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Book:Bonds Of Chrome Magic
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“They had ventured out into the chilly night with the sole intention of slaughtering as many humans as they could find and feasting on their blood. There had been a time (perhaps after he had killed his fiftieth victim) when he had thought he had finally acquired the state. The rush was unprecedented; the euphoria engulfed him as he and Jo shattered the dreams of the innocent. They cackled like hyenas as their blood-mania rendered them bestial.”

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Book:Vampires of Twilight Castle
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“Up ahead, a shadowy building loomed. It looked more like a gothic cathedral than a school, with grossly elongated black spires jutting into the night sky. They unnerved Tony. Somehow, they resembled horns silhouetted against the moon. He counted ten of these protuberances, each with an arrowhead as its tip. Tony found the structure difficult to make his mind up about. It was beautiful, that was for sure, but its beauty was intermingled with an ill-masked sense of horror. The black exterior had a pair of peculiar projections on either side of the building resembling a bat's wings. His feet on concrete now, he pulled up to a webbed gate— also reminiscent of a bats with the hind, bone-like array supporting an oily black, translucent texture. He saw some girls a few dozen feet from the gate at the entrance of the building. They were garbed in black sailor fuku skirts too high above the knees to facilitate concentration upon anything academic. The males were also dressed in black corduroy pants and black dress shirt. A throng by the massive doors stared holes through them as they approached. Up close, he noted some of the girls were quite pale, sporting piercings and tattoos on their necks and hands. He even saw one with a spider web inked on the side of her face. When he followed Silver Man into the building— his toes squeaking in his soaked shoes—he was awed by the aesthetics. There was a rather large gathering in the hall that looked more like large shadows with all the children in black. Tony felt out of place in his brown pants and long sleeved white shirt. The hall was bleak; the only source of illumination was a pair of horizontal cylindrical lamps set upon wooden rafters near the ceiling. Silver Man proceeded toward the platform where Tony could just make out the form of a thin man donning a monocle. He looked like an old scientist. He was sitting cross-legged, stroking his chest-length pearl white beard. The man appeared to be watching them as they progressed through the hall. Then he stood as they neared the stage, now caressing his bald head. He had a monkish appearance. His black robe— quite similar to the one Silver Man wore— was tied at the waist by a red cloth. The bald, monocled man extended a spindly hand which Silver Man gave a firm tug before leaning in and whispering something. The man nodded, turning to Tony. Tony flinched as he regarded him through his peculiar eyewear: a single gold-rimmed, circular lens. He now folded himself into an accentuated bow. "Listen up folks!" he shouted. Tony saw the students rushing inside the castle pell-mell, summoned by the voice of the bespectacled man. “We have a late recruit ladies and gentlemen,” the man said. His voice was much stronger than his thin frame suggested. “Join me as I induct him into the hallowed spirit of Imajinaereum.”

Witchcraft And SpellsA Discovery Of WitchesCastle Of ShadowsMagical School
Book:Binds of Silver Magic
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