Burned Book Review Novels & Stories

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

I interrupted. Her cheeks went red, and her eyes brightened. With a groan, I shook my head. My wolf was growling at me even before I said, “It’s not worth crying over.” The book blew up. Every page lit on fire as it burst outward, flying in every direction. A chunk of the flaming spine hit me square in my chest. I batted it away, yelping in shock. There was a slight burn where it’d hit me, but nothing bad. I stomped out the flames and made my way to the other bits of burning paper, putting out the fires.

--- Burning Empire Chapter 1 Matteo’s heart hammered like a drum as he slipped through the crowded streets, clutching the small leather pouch tight beneath his coat. The city buzzed all around him — neon signs flickering, voices shouting, music pounding from nearby bars. But Matteo barely heard it. All he could focus on was the pounding in his chest and the sharp, cold weight in his pocket. This was it. His first real score.

Even the bishop, once warm and jovial, began requesting odd reports about Isabella’s daily activities. And Catherine—despite her physical absence—was ever-present. She had sent a parcel to the church. Inside was a book. No note. No name. Just the title embossed in gold: "The Altar We Burned." It was written in Isabella’s handwriting. But she had never written such a book. Arthur’s hands shook as he turned the pages. They detailed dreams Isabella had shared only with him. Secrets she hadn’t spoken aloud. The book was a threat.

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She simply gave them the truth and let it stand in the snow, and the men received it in silence, the flat broken silence of a people too cold and too hungry to do anything with a truth but hear it. Then she went back up to the study, because there was nowhere else to go, and she took out the book to burn it. That was her honest intention. The swollen ledger of buried bodies had cost her everything. It had turned Dain into a fuse, started a mutiny, and taught her that every secret in it was a door that opened onto a trap. She knelt at the small cold hearth with the last of the fire she would allow herself, and she opened the book one final time, meaning to feed it page by page to the flame, a

Then, he looked at me with a gaze of sympathy and helplessness. "Mr. Bradshaw, we understand your stress response after surviving such a close call." Then, he closed his notebook. "However, your family's testimony matches the on-site investigation. The door lock had indeed been jammed shut by the high temperature inside the place. "Please rest well and try not to touch fire again if you're alone." After the officers left, the rest of the neighbors also left while shaking their heads. Before leaving, they even gave me advice, saying, "You should cherish what you have, Ron. Don't you know how good Delilah and Dakota are as your wife and daughter?

The ending created by silly words lost its weight at this point. I hovered above the bookmark sign at the top right corner of the screen before clicking on it. The menu popped up, and I chose to delete the book from my homepage. A notification popped up at the center of the screen. [Are you sure you want to delete the book? This process is irreversible.] I clicked confirm. The progress bar completed in a flash, and the book vanished without a trace from my homepage. Ding! My phone lit up. I received a text. [Processing complete. You have received 10,000,000 dollars into your bank account for completing the S-Rank mission!]

The path to freedom was clear and direct. In murderous rage, I pierced my claws into the palm of my right hand, hovered it over the last remaining shreds of the book and watched Vincent's eyes glaze over with tears. I uttered a single word, "Burn." And the book caught on fire the moment drops of my blood from the cut I made on my palm came into contact with it. In Vincent's absentmindedness, with his gaze still pinned on the burning book, everything slowed down before me. I moved faster than the law of time permitted, over to where he knelt with a sorrowful expression as he watched the remains of the book become ash.

I said, “I burnt the book.” After I had said my last word, it was like I swore to God or something worse than that. His eyes went wide open and started shaking, it was like he just saw a ghost or heard the bad news. He even wanted to cry. “What?!” he shouted, “You have made the worst move of your life. In everything you have done in your life, this takes the trophy.” “What do you mean?” I asked, shaking, “You are making me scared.” “By the time you burnt the book, you had declared that you know the book and are ready to obey its laws and order.” He said, “Meaning you are literally the member of the Autocratic Family now.”