Agartha Book Novels & Stories

The name hung unspoken—but present—above the book like a word that had yet to be pronounced by existence. “I remember the sound,” Elthara said, voice shaking. “Not the name. The sound it made when I tore it from the sky.” The dagger trembled. Her twin blinked. “You shouldn’t. You weren’t supposed to.” Aelrian surged forward, light flashing in his palm, and cast a barrier between them. The twin staggered back, shrieking like a broken bell. Elthara’s fingers closed around the edge of the book—not the ink, not the story—but the spine itself. And it pulsed.

"I have another gift for Vesta." "Another?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she… giving them away?" "Indeed, which only strengthens my resolve. This one, however, will be different." I approached a bookcase, running my fingers along the spines of countless leather-bound volumes. Finally, I pulled out a book with a worn cover and faded gold lettering: "My Mother's Garden." This book, filled with sketches and descriptions of Vesta’s own mother's beloved garden, was a cherished memory from her childhood. It held a sentimental value that went beyond monetary worth.

Are you being serious right now? He slaughtered those men like they were nothing, and yet… I wasn’t even scared. I was mesmerized. Those tattoos—detailed, intricate, like paintings. And one in particular—it looked familiar. But where had I seen it before? Ugh. Add that to my ever-growing list of “figure out later.” For now, I need to get somewhere safe. Somewhere I can breathe, process, think about the absolute disaster my world has become. Agatha isn’t really my sister. She’s a princess and apparently the key to some grand scheme.

Raff starts. “I know. I should have told you last night or maybe this morning, but Rafferty Maellan Verdante Addams, you have no right to go through my things and read my spell book!” Willow shouts. Raff looks shocked at the accusation and a bit scared. “Woah there princess! No one went through your things or read your spell book. Just hear Raff out, then you can explain what your spell book has to do with you being more fae than we thought,” Aiden says, stepping to block Raff from her wrath if she unleashes it.

The Harbor Confrontation The interior of the warehouse felt remarkably dry compared to the lashing brine outside, though the air stayed thick with the smell of old parchment, scorching silicon, and the faint, bitter musk of wild mint. Agatha did not drop her hands from the server cradle. Her slender fingers remained poised above the manual kill-switches, her knuckles turning a sharp, bloodless white under the pale amber glare of the overhead workspace lamps. She wore a simple, dark traveling cloak that looked caked in the gray dust of a hundred different border towns, her sharp features mapping out a web of deep, permanent lines that spoke of twenty years spent hiding in the lawless drift zo

"All right, Auntie. I'm leaving. I'm going to apply for a job. I'll go ahead." She nodded. "All right. I hope you'll be hired. Take care, Vanessa." I left our apartment and waited for a bus. Tita Bia and I are just the two of us living together. Tita Bia was unlucky to have children, so her boyfriend left her. While I was happy with my family, they were mercilessly killed by a creature that I will never forgive. Werewolves.

However, the word he had earlier heard interrupted his flow of thoughts, and the emotions that were creeping into him. Arthmata, Arthmata, Arthmata. The words resounded in his head in the very manner and pace the woman had said it. It, however, sounded more of a ghostly echo. Who was that woman? And what the hell is Arthmata? The woman looked worried when he met her. Their car had rammed into a truck. However, one thing caught his eye- Her eyes. When he first saw them, the top right quarter of her iris was red, the top left corner green, a the lower right quarter blue and the remaining quarter orange, and it seemed to glow dimly. The pupil was black, but it was blacker that the pupil anyone

“And that’s not the first time something like that has happened either. When Levi was imprisoned here, he was visited by someone who looked like me.” Gammie’s face turns pale. “I should have known.” “Should have known what?” Arthur asks, looking bothered now. “Is this a thing that witches know of?” She nods, and with that, she gets up and heads to one of the bookshelves. She scans the spines of the books and takes out a big volume, which has a cover of what looks like tree bark. She lays it on the floor in the middle of our huddle and flicks through the brittle, browning pages.

Untidy bastard. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge, sipped once and let the water cool my mouth for a few moments as I surveyed the room to ready myself then I walked towards the chest filled with firearms. The chest was a vintage piece my father stole from his family's estate the last time he visited. That was sixteen years ago. The rusty gold chest was an heirloom he said. Before it was a firearm storage, it stored the family's finest jewelry.

Her expression darkened. The Book of Life was not just any artifact. It recorded every soul born into existence, every fate written into the fabric of the universe. It was the only way for her to obtain the book of death and the Archai weapon to open the gates of the Levite Garden and to obtain the Book of Rebirth and awaken herself as Na’ara forcefully. SInce Lilith won’t merge with her and she can’t subdue her.