Books In Latin Novels & Stories

They were a bit pale, like the rest of the symbols, but were still clearly legible on closer inspection. Qui ad hoc sanctum imo cognitionem facit animam. Qui ad hoc sanctum tenebras faciens scire. Qui ad hoc sanctum peccare, ne forte resipiscant et ad regendum mundum. Amon Godric looked up in surprise. It was personal from his ancestor! He paused for a moment. Of course, Latin was also part of his training, except that he did not use the dead language that often. Only alone when he had to read the documents from the archive. Without exception, these were all in Latin. That was how Godric had translated in his head.

With excitement, he leaped to his feet and said to Lydia, “Well done!” Ulricus beckoned his hand, and the books flew toward him in an instant. He quickly put the books away. Then, he closed his eyes and started examining the magic books in silence. Ulricus finally opened his eyes again thirty minutes later, his face filled with excitement and thrill. “The Fiery Lexicon, the Song of the Empire, the Shining Tome, Souleater Grimoire… All four books are here. What happened to the previous owner of the books?”

Sifting through the pages revealed that it was a journal filled with excerpts and prose, possibly love letters of intimacy exchanged between two people. "Without which, not." Nancy spoke. Across from me sat her and Nicolas, Alex standing at a chalkboard as he drew out different plans for the remodel. Retreating my gaze from the book and meeting Cordelia's, I raised an eyebrow at her statement. "She's talking about the book you're reading," Nicolas picked up on her comment, filling in the gaps. "Sine Qua Non is Latin for without which, not.” "It's another way of saying without something, something else is impossible," Alex explained, his back still facing us.

A well worn, thin strip of leather hangs from the bottom of the book marking a page towards the back. When I turn to the page the air is sucked right out of me. My name in giant golden letters at the top, and the most beautiful, inked image of a wolf howling at the moon takes up most of the space. Down the righthand side, next to the spine are words, laid out like a poem, but I don’t recognise any of them as English. “Haec verba recita ut intus bestiam absolvas. Benedicto lunae revelavi tibi.

He looked like a man ready to work. “Take anything relevant,” he ordered the guards softly. “Take ten books each. Find anything on the goddess lines, on remarkable gifts, and on old healer rites. Start now.” We dispersed quickly, hands skimming spines and pulling out volumes. My fingers found a thin book with cracked leather. Its title was faded, written in English from an old time. I opened it and scanned. Pages moved. It was slower work than I thought; some books were full of ritual and nothing more.