Arcane Artbook Novels & Stories

I replied back as I stretched my hands to remove the painting but it didn’t move, instead it slid and revealed a medium sized box. I took the box out and placed it on the desk. It was an old mahogany box with gold engravings on it. “Sinclair” I opened it carefully and revealed a very thick brown greenish book with about 200 pages made of parchment or something like and had the title written on it with big bold handwriting: “BOOK OF SHADOWS” I smiled happily, I couldn’t believe that I had it in my hands and looked at Kevin who was still anxious saying: “We found it” he nodded his head and was about to speak when we suddenly heard an applause behind us.

Suddenly, a rustling of the bushes, and turning around, Arachne reappeared with a small, leather-bound book clutched in her hand. "This is for you," she said, holding out the book. "It's your history, Derek. Your true history." I took the book under a feeling of trepidation and excitement. What secrets would it hold? And what about learning things about myself? I took the book in my hands with some feelings of trepidation mixed with excitement. As I opened the cover, some musty smell came out, and I began flipping through its pages. The text in it was in some very ancient language that I couldn't recognize, but as soon as I touched its pages, something strange clicked-a sort of buzzing in th

I punched three more times before it broke through. “There it is.” My eyes darkened with satisfaction. I grabbed the panel and slid it open. Inside were only two books. An ancient-looking tome, and a thick grimoire. I picked both up and quickly unlatched them before flipping through the pages with growing anticipation. Unlike the others, none of the pages were torn. I heaved a sigh of relief while a faint smile tugged at my lips. “Now, let’s see what you are,” I whispered. I scanned the titles carefully. The grimoire was titled Makisteia. The tome beneath it was Malkara Lyk — Vael Sorcery and Curse of the Wolves respectively.

The book has a black leather cover and on the center of the cover, there is a glass bulging bubble that's filled with some kind of red liquid. Please don't be blood. I bend to pick up the book and stumble back a bit. It's heavy and I lug it into the room kicking the door shut with the back of my heel before moving to sit down on my bed. "Who left you at my door." I openly think as I read over the cover. Elgadah Furrucci presents. Advanced Spells and Enchantments. English translation. The words are printed in italics across the cover. I run my hand over the cover and I can feel the light layer of dust on it. My hand stops at the glass bubble and I avoid touching that part.

Each one needed to be categorized, filed, and cross-referenced—tedious work, but it kept my mind busy. As I sorted through a particularly old pile, my fingers brushed against something different—a heavy book with faded lettering on its spine. The leather binding was cracked and worn, small pieces flaking off under my touch. Curious, I pulled it from the stack. Golden script decorated the cover in an ancient language I recognized from my council training: Bloodlines and Sacred Artifacts of the Wolf Packs. I blew dust off the cover, shaking loose specks that glittered in the day’s bright rays. The book looked centuries old, its pages yellowed and brittle with age.

Miya said, and luna Nesta nodded. “In that case, all of us represent Arcanes. All of us pick up properties from people around us to form an identity of our own. If we see on a broad scale, none of us have a unique identity of our own, we borrow identities of others now and then and dispose of parts of those identities like the skin of a snake. Don’t we?” I said. Luna Nesta smiled, “you are absolutely right, Diana. Maybe Zephyr is indeed normal because Arcanes are normal too. They are the invasive species of the Gloom forests.”

In the center of a cavernous chamber stood a solitary pedestal, and upon it sat a leather-bound book, its spine cracked and held shut by a network of silver thorns reminiscent of twisted vines. As Autumn stepped closer, curiosity and trepidation battling within her, the pendant lifted from her chest, glowing with an intensity that illuminated the chamber. Instantly, the silver thorns curled backward, withering like dried leaves struck by flame, and the book creaked open. Autumn held back, wary of touching its pages; instead, they began to turn of their own accord, gaining momentum in a magnetic display. The pages revealed a kaleidoscope of sketches, esoteric runes, fragmented notes in faded

She imagined what it would feel like on the other parts of her body again. "Sil? Sil?" She snapped out of her thoughts though it took a little shake. "Penny for your thoughts". She smiled. "It wasn't something serious. Just random thoughts". "And you don't want to talk about it? Is it about the chimera?" He peered into her eyes. "No, no my love it isn't. I'm fine. What were you saying?" "Master Arcus left me a book, Magix of death and life." Sil looked at him wide eyed. "Isn't that the book about Necromancy?"

“Now. Before it's too late.” “Too late for what?” I helped steady her other side, and the moment my skin touched hers, power surged between us. Images flashed through my mind: *Darkness spreading like spilled ink across the sky* *Ancient seals cracking* *Reality itself warping and twisting* *A choice that would cost everything* I yanked my hand back, breathing hard. “What the hell was that?” “That,” Aria said grimly, “was just the beginning.” The pack library looked like a tornado had hit it. Ancient texts and scrolls covered every available surface, some stacked so high they threatened to topple. The scent of old paper and magic filled the air, mixing with the tension rolling off everyone p

They stepped inside. Raven’s sharp blue eyes scanned the spines—titles in languages older than Arcadia Prime, bindings of shadow-leather and bone. Victoria moved with purpose, fingers trailing over volumes until she stopped before a thick tome bound in matte black hide that drank the light rather than reflected it. Silver script crawled across the cover like living veins: *Intricate Military Command of the Dead* *Advanced Studies in the Art of Necromantic Warfare* Raven reached up—standing on tiptoe—and pulled it free. The weight surprised her; this was no slim intermediate text. This was dense, heavy with diagrams of battlefield sigils, troop formations of the risen, rites for coordinating