Booktok Ornament Novels & Stories

The scent of incense filled Selena's nostrils as she stepped into Uncle Bane's expansive chamber. The fur-lined table had a bunch of items on it. A fork with three standing candles casting shadows dancing on the walls. By the corner, a tall staff with a curled head leaned against stone, its base catching the faint shimmer of gold. A gold sceptre with an emerald ball twinkling gold as if he’d just performed magic on it. A glass ball on a gold base, entrapping a swirl of cloud as violet as the galaxy and cosmos. Leather sturdy books were stacked, the four of them at either side of his furry table. His bedside was at a further corner of the room. The small brass incense burner was plopped by it

In the far corner is a sink and a crude-looking toilet. Hooks line one of the walls, all empty. The air smells like rust and dust. But then, something catches my eye. A shelf near the back, almost hidden in shadow. Not plastic packages this time. Books. Old ones. Their spines are worn, leather cracked. Some have gold filigree. Others are thick and bound in cloth. I move closer, squinting to read the faded titles. “Lineage of Power.” “The Lost Coronation.” “Treaties of the First Blood.”

Sending love and well wishes to you all xx A trail of water dripped behind Bellamy as he emerged from the shower, a towel hung loosely around his waist as he ruffled another towel through his now damp curls. “Whatcha reading gorgeous?” he nodded to Thea. Placing an intricately carved silver bookmark in between the pages, she placed her book down on the bedside table. Letting out a contented sigh, she stretched her arms and legs out on the bed. “It’s called ‘Her Fae Lovers’ by one of my favourite authors, Jane Knight.” A sleepy smile danced across her face as she dragged her eyes over Bellamy’s wet, exposed torso. Little pearls of water clung to his taught, tanned skin making him glisten unde

The snow keeps falling, heavy and suffocating. When I finally gather enough courage to walk home, my nerves are shredded. My thoughts got tangled. My chest tightened I reach my doorstep, fumbling for my keys. And there,lying on my welcome mat—is something small, wooden, and dusted with snow. A Christmas ornament. Hand-carved. Shaped like a house.Burning. A single number etched into its back: 24 The countdown has begun.

Both were busy placing on the branches the little lights, bells, bows, and various colorful decorations that were in the suitcase he had picked up from his father's house. "I've always enjoyed looking at Christmas decorations," Tábata commented, holding a golden angel. "Ever since I became responsible for the antique shop, I'd set aside the prettiest pieces with a Christmas feel to decorate the main window," she remarked, fitting the angel onto the side of the green plastic tree. "There was a beautiful music box, with a delicate porcelain ballerina and red arabesques, that I had set aside for this year..." Tábata's voice died out, leaving only her melancholic expression and trembling fingers

There was a small, hidden slot along the edge of the cover, almost invisible until you knew it was there. She took a deep breath, looked at Kael one more time, and slid the key into place. There was no loud noise, no flash of light. Just a soft, gentle click, and then the whole book seemed to breathe. The leather cover warmed, and when Elara lifted it open, the pages didn’t just show words they began to glow from within, bright but easy to look at, like sunlight through thin paper.

The sound of me slamming the door made the lamps in the hallway flicker. I ran into my room and pulled out everything that carried Orion’s mark. The ceremonial claw ornament he gave me from the top shelf of the training rack. The outer cloak he left in the back of my wardrobe. The faded gathering tokens from the drawer. I shoved them all into a wooden chest. A jar fell from the shelf and shattered on the floor. Orion had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday. Inside were protective charms he had carved my name into, each one strung on sinew.

“I hate how perfect this is. My brand is ruined.” A few feet away, Keyu was leafing through a book with a bewildered expression. Small, handwritten notes were tucked into every other page, the margins blooming with ink. “You actually annotated this?” he asked, his thumb tracing a line of Astrella’s handwriting. “Consider it a limited edition,” she said, her tone light but her gaze lingering. “Don’t get used to the effort.” A loud, booming laugh erupted from Fabio. He held up a sweater that was so aggressively festive, complete with a light-up reindeer, it practically hurt to look at. “Is this a declaration of war, Astrella?”

In the center of a cavernous chamber stood a solitary pedestal, and upon it sat a leather-bound book, its spine cracked and held shut by a network of silver thorns reminiscent of twisted vines. As Autumn stepped closer, curiosity and trepidation battling within her, the pendant lifted from her chest, glowing with an intensity that illuminated the chamber. Instantly, the silver thorns curled backward, withering like dried leaves struck by flame, and the book creaked open. Autumn held back, wary of touching its pages; instead, they began to turn of their own accord, gaining momentum in a magnetic display. The pages revealed a kaleidoscope of sketches, esoteric runes, fragmented notes in faded