Book Of Vishanti Novels & Stories

I tell him. Flavius nods in response and begins to pack his things. I fill my satchel with various clothing items and few books. "Why are you packing books?" Flavius asks curiously. "Since we are visiting another horde without sending a messenger ahead, I need to bring something that will serve as a gift. Those of the Horde of Fates are known knowledge seekers. I have many books in my private collection that have not been seen since The Fires. They should serve as a suitable present," I say.

- I told him. He nodded and pulled several books out from one of the stacks and set them in front of me. I opened the top book and ran my fingers over the runes in the title. It was beautifully written as if each word was drawn with love and attention to detail. Now that I looked at it, it reminded me of a combination of Norse and Old English. Nerrian pulled his chair closer and pointed to the first word, speaking it in my mind than out loud in Draygonian. With his help, I repeated the word over and over again until I perfected it.

Giselle looked at the man not knowing why she was here. Uzair raised his hand and a book appeared. He opened it and started ready loudly. "F i r s t... l i f e. H e a l e r... n i g h t... j a s m i n e ... a n d... d i e d... i n... t h e... h a n d s... o f... w o l f... s p i r i t. S e c o n d... l i f e.

She looked mysterious and all but I still wasn’t buying it. There were a lot of things yay we were off about her and I just didn’t want to believe anything she was saying. “Whoever you’re running from, you don’t need to run again because your time has come. A war will break out which will test those of your kind and you’ll have to stay strong. You’ll fight and you’ll Triumph eventually, running won’t do anything and you’ll have to face what you’re running from, rest assured that you’ll be victorious.”

Chapter 18 Possessive *** Content Warning: This chapter might contain violence, abuse, crime, or triggering factors that may be harmful, disturbing, or traumatizing to some. Reader discretion is advised. Thank you. *** POV: Shea Vestine - Thorne After talking to Denver that day, everything went smoothly between them. She was just glad that the beast inside him was already being tamed… at least for the time being. She was grateful that he gave her his trust – in him.

Warning: This book contains sensitive content and is is rated +18, everything in this book is strictly a work of fiction and is not related to any real life event or persons. Chapter 1 Nazy My hand trembled in fear, tears rolled down my eyes, as my brain try to process the doctors words, “YOU’RE HIV POSITIVE!” “YOU’RE HIV POSITIVE!” “YOU’RE HIV POSITIVE!” The doctor's words resounded and echoed in my head,

Alder raised both hands in surrender and answered quickly, fear trembling beneath his calm tone. “They took the book! The Book of Damned! Kael has it!” Varek’s grip tightened. “And what does that… insignificant relic… have to do with me?” Eloria choked, forcing out the words. “The Book contains rituals… forbidden ones… it can alter the battlefield… shift power… bind… or kill entities like—” She gasped. “—like you.” Varek’s expression twisted. His fingers tightened another fraction. For a moment Alder was sure the Grand Magestress was going to die.

Peaceful. Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Philosophy. Strategy. History. She stopped. On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize. It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular. SAVAGE REBORN.

One volume called to her like a whisper against bone: *The Greater Veil: Finer Threads of Dominion* She pulled it free. The book was heavier than the black tome from her father’s library, its cover bound in something that looked like polished shadow-leather, warm to the touch. She opened it carefully. The first pages spoke of layered commands, of weaving intent so precisely that the dead obeyed without resistance, of turning even the strongest-willed undead into extensions of the caster’s will. Raven’s breath caught. She looked up at Victoria. Victoria read the title over her shoulder, then met Raven’s gaze. She squeezed Raven’s hand once—firm, reassuring—and nodded.

"But the iron is useless without the doctrine." Elias looked down at the Master Methodology. He reached out. With a slow, agonizing deliberation, Elias grasped the heavy parchment pages—all one hundred and thirteen types of emotional repair, the bridge holding, the truth reading, the warmth tracking. Thirty years of peace. He turned them all over. He found the first blank page at the back of the book. "We do not erase what Vassa built," Elias said softly, his silver eyes meeting Isra’s tear-filled gaze. "We preserve it. When the war is won, we will turn back to the front of the book."