Book Of Cthulhu Novels & Stories

For now, she didn't even want to wonder what would happen if aunt Margareth finds out about her feelings. Selene stretched first, then slowly dragged herself off the bed, her eyes immediately fixed on the Book of Magic that was lying down on the desk, the one she had gotten from aunt Meredith yesterday. Selene took it gently in her hands and sat on the edge of the bed, setting the bulky volume on her lap, and flipped through the book several times. Afer the fourth time she stopped at a page that showed a portrait of a man with ebony, half-length hair, in a long black coat... The face itself seemed familiar at once, but when Selene saw his eyes - dark and captivating like two black holes, she

"Sorry, but that was an accident. I wanted to greet you personally, but thought that walking up to your camp would have been worse. Calling to you affected him as well I see. My apologies. I forget how susceptible newly-reborn are to my magic. Lucifer groaned in anger. He knew that this was typical for Cthulhu. 'I honestly can't tell whether you're stupid, naive, or just a sociopath sometimes.' He lowered his hand. "Well I flew over here. What did you want to tell me?" "Cytus. He's a problem I should have addressed long ago, but now seems to have crawled into your life." Lucifer knew a lot about the Otherworld, but one place that had always eluded him was R'lyeh. It was a place that even anc

I had to keep studying—this was the only way I could avoid his gaze and his presence. After a few more pages, my eyes drifted to the large bookshelf along the living room wall. It was filled with thick volumes, most in Latin or old English. Slowly, I stood and approached it. My fingers brushed over a spine, trying to read the titles. Anatomi Licanthropica, Genealogy of Packs, Mutatio Lupus. I pulled one out, nearly choking when I saw its contents—pages full of strange illustrations: skeletal figures half-transformed into wolves, notes on dual circulatory systems, and countless terms unfamiliar to me.

At the center of the cover lies a raised symbol: a drop of blood, intricately detailed, as if about to trickle down the cover, appearing almost alive. The clasp of the book is a masterpiece of brutality and symbolism. Made of heavy metal, it is adorned with tiny skulls and bones, reminders of the lethal power contained within the tome. The clasp seems to demand a blood pact to be opened, with a small blade embedded, ready to make the necessary cut. When I finally open the Bloodbound Codex, I feel the temperature around me drop abruptly, as though the very air had been sucked into the book. The atmosphere becomes denser, heavier, as if the essence of the book were absorbing the vitality aroun

My eyes widened with anticipation, but inside, I found only a thick, leather-bound book. The cover was faded and worn, with the strange symbol embossed on it; a triangle with three circles inside. I ran my fingers over the symbol, a chill creeping up my spine. I had no idea what it meant, but it seemed significant, almost sacred. With hands that trembled, I lifted the book from the chest. The pages were thick and yellowed, and an old, musky smell filled the air as I carefully opened it.

His red eyes deepened, indicating his desire to sort things out. "One of the book of history has gone missing last night. The Book of Creation. And then this morning, it is found on its shelf again. Not a piece was taken nor changed," Merko said. I had been to their library a couple of times and had seen that book. However, due to my very busy schedule, I could not read it since I have to prioritize knowing more about potions. "It is not allowed to take the books out of the bibliotheca. How come that it has gone missing? Who was patroling last night?" Yamiko asked.

I had this unsettling feeling that they were going to attack, but where, when and who were uncertain. When I got home, I ran over to an old, Victorian cabinet that was passed down through the generations in my family. It was cherry oak and curved out in the middle; the Victorian designs were chipped but didn’t deny that it was a formidable antique. I walked up to it with my set of keys, found the right key and unlocked it. I took out my book of creatures and opened it. It was an old, leather bound book passed down from century to century, with my ancestors adding to it as new creatures revealed themselves. The faded letters in the middle of the cover said “Demonology” in Irish text. The page

Countless shelves lined with weathered books and scrolls stretched into the distance, promising untold secrets and forgotten wisdom. They made their way through the labyrinthine aisles, their eyes scanning the titles and searching for any mention of Lycans or black magic. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight that filtered through stained glass windows, lending an ethereal quality to their journey. Finally, they discovered a section dedicated to ancient legends and forbidden knowledge. The books here were wrapped in worn leather, their pages delicate and yellowed with age. Rey's fingers traced the spines until they settled upon a tome titled "The Chronicles of Shadows: Unveiling the Secrets of

If only it worked that way. As my consciousness faded, my soul felt yanked back—to that Halloween night that changed everything. Lights strung like jack-o'-lanterns, crowds surging like a river. I was gripping my little brother Matthew Duncan's hand—warm and soft—terrified that if I let go for even a second, the tide of people would swallow him up. But in the blink of an eye, a puppet-maker's stall caught his eye. He pointed at a fierce general figurine, bouncing with excitement. "Eli! I want that one! The general!"

And something faintly metallic beneath it all. Blood. --- His fingers moved across worn spines until he found what he sought. Soul Vessels. Forbidden Possessions. Underworld Bindings. Kael pulled the heavy books free and placed them across a nearby table. The candles lit themselves automatically. He began reading. --- Hours passed silently. Only the sound of turning pages filled the room. Kael’s expression darkened more with every text. Some spoke of spirits entering weak bodies. Others described possession through mirrors, cursed artifacts, blood rituals.