Booktok Candles Novels & Stories

It had to be the effect of Amy’s cleansing, cause I felt relaxed, prone to smile and holding a generous stock of patience for Price’s mood swings. “The candles, Fran.” Amy handed me two dozen tea light candles and as many tiny glass holders. “Are we setting the house on fire?” Price asked, curious in a playful way. “Maybe the day after tomorrow,” Amy replied. “Can you guys set them?” So we did. He was in charge of fitting the candles in their holders, for me to place them in the best circle I could make around the mat. Amy had set both pitchers on the mantelpiece and now she opened a fabric pouch with ground herbs that smelled of sage and juniper.

___ Selene’s POV The dim candlelight flickered against the old parchment as Selene traced her fingers over the delicate pages of the book Ronan’s mother had given her. The scent of aged paper filled the air, mingling with the subtle hint of burning wax. She had spent hours pouring over the text, meticulously taking notes on anything that seemed remotely useful. The book contained knowledge lost to time, secrets about the origins of their kind, forgotten magic, and hidden weaknesses that could turn the tide of war.

Lamps hanging on the wall burned without flame, the pale, ghostly light stretching across the floor. At the center of the space was a stone altar and a book. My eyes narrowed at the thick tome. “Wait, is that our answer?” I asked. Getta ran her hand over the cover reverently. “This book has existed before your pack existed. It’s dangerous.” “Wouldn’t expect anything less, of course,” Bennett murmured beside me. Without another word, Getta began to place things around the altar. Herbs, vials, and bones were the things I could recognize.

All of the books in this section were pay books and Steven told her that these books were sealed just like their special technique books so they must be similar. When Cassy asked him to show her which symbols were associated with which flames he complied and when she asked him why he thought there were no books on white, black, silver and purple flames he told her that it was probably because they didn't normally appear until higher levels. When Cassy saw the prices of these books she sighed and asked Steven if he wanted to go look for him because the cheapest book in that section was worth 1 500 credits and it was a sealed book for the yellow flame that she didn't have access to at the mome

“That's not how you talk about my cooking. He frowned. “That's not what I meant. It smells like an animal in heat. “It's probably just my mother's friend Cynthia. She does tarot readings at a store downtown and they burn all kinds of incense. The scent follows her like a cloud. She would be the type of woman who would wear a perfume called Eau de Wolf . Oh, that reminds me. ’ As the pasta boiled, I dragged the huge book Derek had given me from my backpack by the door and held it out to him. “My friend Derek gave me this. He's a mythology student and I think he can help me make a case to discredit Ruth...

“No perfume sets. No gift cards. She wants to know you thought about her.” I tilted my head. “So…like a handwritten poem on silk cloth or a rare Egyptian spice box?” Noah gave me a look. “Funny. You’re hilarious.” I smirked. “Just trying to help.” We ducked into a boutique-style store that sold handmade candles, bathrobes, mugs, and everything else that screamed lovingly overpriced. The kind of store that made you want to buy something just so you could say, I got this from that place with the tiny succulents and hand-written thank-you notes.

Finally, she produced a thick, leather-bound book that looked ancient, its cover worn and cracked. “Kendall,” Tanya said, her voice shaking. “What… what is all this?” Kendall didn’t answer. She arranged the candles in a circle on the hardwood floor, spacing them evenly. Then she opened the pouches, pouring what looked like salt, herbs, and something dark and grainy—ash, maybe—into the wooden bowl. The air in the room shifted. It felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees. “Kendall,” I said carefully, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you doing? What is all this for?”

She thought. She strolled around and spotted few scented candles which had a unique and sweet smell, she took one for her best friend-Tasha, a Christmas present, she made her way to the counter. On the way she spotted a booklet which picked her interest, it's paper were of unique quality, she was fascinated by them she wanted to buy them immediately but decided against it, she already had numerous booklets back home which she had bought but never used. With a heavy heart, she left the booklet at its place and went to pay the bill. "I'll take this." She handed the candle. "Gift?"

"I'll unpack it for you." There isn't time for me to answer before he's out the front door. I'd chase him, but I'm almost warm again. The living room has a slight musty odor to it, probably from being locked up for the last month. I must find somewhere in town to purchase candles, preferably the kind made in Maine with an intoxicating beach scent. Not the ones they tell you smell like the beach but either smell like sun tan lotion or soap.

I heard him go over to his wardrobe and pull out his drawer, then take something out of it. Returning to the bed, he came to the side and showed me what he had in his hands. "This is a massage candle," he began, "I'm going to light it up and drip the hot wax all over you." My eyes bulged, "Is it safe to do that? You're going to send me to the E.R. with that!" "Relax," he said and threaded his fingers through my hair. "It's not a regular candle. It's soy-based and has a low-melting point, unlike the normal kitchen candles. It doesn't dry into hard wax, it turns to oil on your skin."