Book Seraphina Novels & Stories

Elara’s chest felt tight and painful. “She went back for something,” Elara said. “That girl outside said she went back in.” Seraphina turned to face her slowly. “Elara.” Something in her voice made Elara stop moving. “Look at the desk,” Seraphina said. Elara made herself really look. Not just see. Look. The chair was pushed in neat. The drawers were closed. Nothing was messy. Nothing looked rushed. Seraphina stepped closer. “This is not how a child runs into a burning building,” she said quietly.

What if Julian has seen her ? Seraphina shakes her head and forces her attention back to the book in her hands. The cover is cracked leather, the pages yellowed with age. She opens it carefully, her eyes scanning the words written in the book. The door opens quietly. Seraphina's breath catches in her throat. She looks up, her heart already racing before she even sees who it is. Julian steps inside. He looks powerful in a crisp white shirt and dark trousers, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms.

“I know enough about the human girl, Seraphina. I know her friends and I know how to find her weakness and how to infiltrate her group.” He finally looks at me again, eyes telling me that he’s actually considering it, though he remains severely doubtful. So I sell it. “Her most recent obsession is a book, one she took from The Obsidian Library, under the forbidden section of the Astria demons.” I blurt out. His features turn shocked and slowly morph into amusement before a slow smile forms on his lips. His interest finally piqued. He settles on the sofa, reclaiming his calm countenance once more.

“You can’t keep running from this. You’re drowning, Selena… it may not be so obvious at the moment, but surely, you’re sinking bit-by-bit.” Selena’s sharp inhale echoes in the room, but before she can respond, there is a creak by the door of the inn. Both young ladies turn, and the world seems to hold its breath—a ripple in the atmosphere that precedes something momentous. The door swings open. Seraphina steps into the inn with an air that is both eclectic and regal. Her presence is effulgent, radiating a raw, dangerous power that none of her family members—neither Valentine nor Chloe, not even Dr. Percy—could ever hope to match. Seraphina embodies something far more ancient, more primal. Sh

Oisin smiled down at Seraphina. Placing the stone down on the table for the other mages to marvel at, Seraphina took to looking around the room to find what else had been revealed by the syphoning spell. A large blue and gold leather-bound book caught her attention on one of the shelves. An unexplainable, almost magnetic pull drew her to it. Fingers slightly trembling, she pulled the book out and turned it over to read the cover. ‘Le haghaidh mo iníon’ She ran her fingers over the gold imprinted font, her breath hitched in her throat.

Her chest tightened. She wasn’t ready for all of it. But part of her wanted it anyway. “I need to know more,” she said. “About what happened here. About what I did.” Lucan reached into his coat and pulled out a weathered book wrapped in a dark velvet cloth. He placed it on the stone beside her. “The Dream Codex,” he said. “It’s what’s left of your spellbook. Or Sariah’s, rather.” Seraphina opened the cloth with care, her fingers tracing the faded pages. Symbols danced across the paper—some familiar, some utterly alien. But the minute she touched them, they stirred inside her.

What secrets were buried in these pages? My fingers trembled as I opened the cover. The faint scent of aged paper rose up, holding this book was bittersweet. I had a piece of her but I wish she was here to tell me herself. The first page wasn’t an entry at all. It was… an introduction. Her handwriting was elegant, the strokes graceful but bold, just as I imagined her to be. “My name is Seraphina Shadowfang. I am twenty years old.” I traced the letters with my eyes, reading them again and again as if I needed to commit them to memory.

He had to show them that their King was not broken, but sharpened by the forge of his own suffering. He found her in the royal library, a place of hallowed silence and the scent of aging paper. Seraphina was not reading. She was holding court, a small coterie of sycophantic nobles hanging on her every word. She looked like a queen in her natural habitat, her crimson dress a splash of blood against the muted golds and deep browns of the room.

Is this the moon goddess’s way of punishing me for killing my own fated mate? Isn't cursing my pack not enough? Gently, I shift her hands, placing them properly over her belly. I walk back to my study, keeping my movements quiet. My fingers trace the familiar lock on the shelf. It opens, revealing what I’ve been keeping hidden. I wouldn't want anyone to see how I've been piling up every single publication Seraphina made ever since she was ten. For seven years now, I think. My hands linger over the spines, brushing over the pages as if I could absorb a part of her life through touch alone.