Book Of The Ancestor 소설 & 이야기

But the words cut deeper than any blade. "You can rest in peace now." My ghost trembled in the air, nearly coming apart. So even after my death, even in my father's mind, I was still nothing but a doomed curse—and my suffering was nothing but an offering to comfort his dead son. Just then, Old George, the family butler, came in carrying a steaming bowl of nutritional broth. George had watched us boys grow up—and he was the only soul in this cold house who'd ever shown me any kindness.

I felt ashamed and hurt that I hurt the person who trusted me and who never gave up on me when my parents were gone. “Elder Lennox, we found a book that said something that may help defeat Cyrius. The reason why we work together with the vampires is because we may need our blood to create a weapon.” Nirvana chose her words carefully, and I admired that she considered my uncle’s feelings. “What book? Where did you find it?” “After I died, Ambrose—” “Ambrose? The same Ambrose?” “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “My great great great grandfather.”

His hands felt weak, and his legs seemed ready to collapse to the ground. "I can't believe this. How could this happen? How long has it been since the book I hold glowed like this? Such things only happened back when my ancestors were still alive," he thought to himself. He knew the origin of the book in his hands and its purpose. Inside it were recorded all the events that had ever occurred across the entire world, even in the realm of the gods. And he also knew that the appearance of this strange book was a sign that everything happening in the world would change the history of the Xiwang world. Whether it was good or bad, he didn’t know yet, but it was clear that it would bring a new ligh

Charlie said, “I just met my grandparents’ family. My eldest uncle mentioned that my father happened to obtain a book called the Preface to the Apocalyptic Book. Although my eldest uncle didn't know what was written in the book, he remembered my father often mentioned terms like the ‘fate of the ascending dragon’. I once heard Master Lennard say that people's destinies can be categorized into different destinies such as the fate of the python and the fate of the dragon, but I didn't know what the fate of the ascending dragon is.”

He recaptured an old, leather- bound book from his office and placed it in front of me. " This is the Book of murk," he explained." It contains the knowledge and wisdom of our ancestors, their gests and the assignments they learned. It'll be your companion." I opened the book, the runners yellowed with age, filled with handwritten notes and plates It was a treasure trove of information, a testament to the dedication and perseverance of those who had come before me. My father placed a hand on my shoulder formerly more. " You aren't alone in this, Lorcan. We're a family, and we stand together. But you must be prepared for the challenges ahead.

“She's my sister, but I'm not a witch. I didn't have that ability when I was born. Actually, Vevila is the only one who has it in our family. We're very normal. But we supposedly have a mage ancestor who forcibly married a girl hundreds of years ago, but his magic ended with him.” TMI, but okay. “Enough about me. What's that? Looks shabby and ancient.” I turned over the large, heavy book in my hand. I opened it and flipped the pages. “I’m not sure. I can’t read the text.” “Lemme see.” Shania got up and peeked over my shoulder. “There’s nothing there, Sel.” “What?” I was confused because I could clearly see the scribbles and drawings on the book. “They even used golden ink, see?”

It wasn't hot enough to be painful this time, just pulsing softly in rhythm with my heartbeat. I opened the book. The pages were aged-looking, the ink spotty in different spots. The writing itself, no, I shouldn't be able to decipher it. The symbols were old-fashioned, from before the pack texts. However, I could read each word. *The Histories of the Ancient Bloodlines. Volume III: The Torres Lineage and the Binding of the Moon.* My hands were shaking. Torres. My mother’s ancestral surname. In Andrew’s chair, I settled in and read.

As terrifying as that still was, separating from each other would only make things worse, that much I was sure of. The light scent of dust permeated the air, mixing with the slightly sweet and bitter scent of aged leather. Each page sparkled as I turned it, the thick edges dipped in a gold paint that mirrored the cover and spine. The first fifty pages were nothing but names, dates, and times, each one scratched within its own little box. “It’s birth and death records.” Asher murmured, tilting the book towards himself to read some of the names written down. “Celeste Renaldi, Tamara Renaldi, Anastasia Renaldi…they’re all ancestors of yours.”