Cross Stitch Book By Diana Gabaldon の小説・ストーリー

"If you find out anything...interesting, don't hesitate to report back to me. I'll take care of the rest." Weston nodded, his face grim. "Yes, master. I understand." As Duncan sat in his dark, dimly lit library, surrounded by shelves of ancient tomes and mysterious artifacts, he opened the usual special book. The book was bound in black leather, adorned with strange symbols and markings that seemed to shift and writhe in the flickering candlelight.

It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and with every passing minute, the urgency only grew. But then, as I was about to give up for the night, something caught my eye—a small, weathered book tucked away on the bottom shelf. Its cover was faded, the title barely legible, but there was something about it that drew me in. I carefully pulled it from the shelf, the pages brittle and yellowed with age. The title read, *The Lost Chronicles: A History of the Ancient Magics*. My heart raced as I opened the book, scanning the pages for anything that might be relevant. It wasn’t long before I found a section that made my breath catch in my throat.

Once done, Lilliana dabbed her face dry with another and hung it back on the wrack towel before leaving the bathroom. The girl went into her walk-in closet to get dressed. She threw on a pair of biker shorts and a baggy shirt before going out to the kitchen to grab a few snacks to eat and came back to her bedroom. Lilliana placed the snacks on her bed and walked to her bookshelf, acked with all her new books. After she was released from the hospital, Damon had taken her to a bookstore to buy all the books that were burnt in the fire and a couple of new ones that the girl had been meaning to buy. She chose ‘Cursed to be mine’ by Amanda Grant and walked back to her bed. She crawled to the midd

Cam tugs on a strand of her hair thoughtfully. “I have a couple ideas about what it could be. Let me double check something.” She goes to the locked cage and with a hand over the lock and a few whispered words she opens it. She rummages around and pulls out a tightly bound leather book from the back of the shelf before closing up the cage and returning to the little table slash workspace that we’re all standing around. There aren’t chairs in here, but there wouldn’t be room for them even if there was. It’s a small price to pay for the privacy. “What’s that?” Harry asks, standing far too close to Cam and leaning over her shoulder. She snaps the book shut and ducks out and away from him.

Well, maybe the work was rather too stressful that she didn't see the need to have the slightest interest in it. But, she was kind enough to give her this ancient book as a farewell gift and she's really grateful for it. She suddenly smiles as she comes to a particular page that seems to have what she's looking for. Following the instructions in the book, she carefully picked up a needle and was about to plunge it into her flesh when the door burst open. “Madam, what are you doing?” Madam Joan asked, concern written all over her face Startled, she dropped the needle and looked up to meet her gaze.

"She found a parchment with old teachings about rituals and dark magic, including ways to awaken a dark witch." Dylan's interest was instantly piqued. "Where is this parchment?" "In the library. Jordan is trying to copy off the words into a new parchment. The old one is worn out and the writings are barely legible." A dark look slipped across Dylan's eyes. "Show me." He commanded. Caleb turned and hurried back into the mansion, with Dylan right behind him. Scarlett was bent over the table inside the library, trying to read through the parchment as Jordan did his best to copy the writings.

She left the bread on the plate. She picked up her candle, her apron, and a small spool of thread, and she walked toward the door of the library, and as she passed my table, she paused. She did not look at me. She set the small spool of thread down on the corner of my book, on top of a page I had not been reading, and she walked on. The door closed behind her. I looked down. The thread was grey. The spool was old. The page she had set it on was the page that listed births in the Voss pack in the year I had been born.

I pressed both hands against the grass, breathing through a pain that did not deserve comfort. “Daciana,” I said, but her name sounded like a prayer spoken after the temple had already burned. She looked at me quietly, and that quiet hurt more than hatred because hatred would have meant the memory still had a shape. Before she could answer, the first Blood Feather book trembled above the old throne and began turning pages against the wind. The shadow child inside the feather cradle smiled with Maelor’s face, but one black thread had been cut from its throat. The book wrote nine marks in the air, each one shaped like a hook, waiting to enter the unborn child again.

Right then, Xyla noticed a book and a silver hairpin on the final step of the staircase not far away from where they stood. The silver hairpin had a simple yet elegant design with a red gemstone engraved on its edge. Xyla was stunned. Meanwhile, a look of surprise also appeared across Stanley’s face as he promptly carried Xyla down the stairs before setting her down carefully. He then picked up the silver hairpin and book. The book was the classic kind of book they frequently saw in period dramas with a dark blue cover. The hairpin seemed simple yet luxurious up close. The red gemstone had a faint glow that seemed to flicker continually.

“do not read your own book—you might not like how it ends.” Glancing further up the case, the letter ‘G’ was carved in deeply. I scanned the books with my eyes and found myself reading the names that were painted on the spines of the books. Glenda Macon, Gregory Marsh, Gwyn Masters… Each book had a name embroidered on the spine. The books were all black, with names in a flat white. Very few books actually looked different from the others. The one named, Glenda Macon, had a rose with thorns dancing along the cover. I even noticed one that was a shade of slate grey.