Deathly Hallows Book Cover นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She gripped my arm and yanked me into her room, shutting the doors behind her. The smell of ginger and rosemary filled her room. I wrinkled my nose at how potent it was. I took in the full glow of orbs and the shadows of roses that had been painted on her white walls. A large poster bed sat in the middle of the room, covered in plush furs. A large bookshelf cascaded up one wall accompanied by a ladder to reach the top shelves.

“This holds all the answers, El. Well – we think it does, anyway. If this is right – if what it says in here is true – then I think I know what kind of supernatural entity we’re dealing with.” “And you decided not to lead with that?” I asked, somewhere between aghast and amused. He gave an embarrassed half-shrug, his eyes dropping to the book’s worn cover. It was bound in a faded blue cover, and it looked as though it had been well thumbed over the years. There were corners that had been dog-eared, folded over to mark the reader’s place, and there was a large ring-shaped coffee stain on the front cover. “Sorry,” he muttered. I ran my fingers up his arm, a soft, trailing touch that spoke of s

The intricate designs that were on the cover page were gone and the cover with the vibrant green and blue colours was now dull. It looked as if it was… dead. Yeah. That was the term. There was no life in it. “Why does it look as if it's dead?" I asked as I took it from Kellen. “It's because it is," Poppy said and I felt a jolt pass through me. It felt as if I had lost a family member and that feeling wasn't pleasant. When I opened the Vale Grimoire, I felt as if my heart had jumped out of my chest.

Varek’s roar echoed faintly in the forest behind them, but none of them looked back. Not yet. — By the time they reached the massive iron gates, the pack was already waiting. Draven wolves lined both sides of the courtyard, bowing their heads as their Alpha stepped out of the Rolls with the Book of Damned tucked under one arm. Violet and Marek followed close behind, both limping from the earlier fight but alive. Inside the estate’s war hall, Kael placed the book on a marble table. A freezing wave of magic rippled outward, dimming candles, rattling windows, making wolves in the corridors stiffen in instinctive fear.

If he had to gamble with witchcraft to save Scarlet, so be it. Then his eyes caught something in the far corner of the room. A dusty old book bound in cracked black leather that looked disturbingly like skin. He moved toward it slowly. The air felt heavier near it, charged with something that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He crouched and picked it up. The cover bore strange markings.. moon symbols intertwined with claws and something that looked like a screaming face. When he opened it, dust puffed into the air. Inside were diagrams, instructions and rituals.

Chapter 16— Dark Zander Seated comfortably in the Hawthorne family estate main garden Delia had shown her, a few days later, in a deep blue colored boyfriend Jean and a tank top that had come with a tag, a very expensive tag among the expensive tagged clothes she had gotten.

His presence was tense, as if he was waiting for something to move in the shadows. “Black magic,” he murmured, reaching for a book with gold-edged pages. The cover had a strange sigil, one that pulsed faintly under the dim lighting. I frowned. “This place… it doesn’t feel right.” It wasn’t just the books. There were jars placed on a nearby table—each containing murky liquids and unidentifiable objects floating within. Some looked like dried-up hearts, others like small, shriveled hands. I swallowed hard. Hades exhaled sharply. “It’s worse than I expected.”

Behind the panel was a small space, just big enough to hide something. Inside was a single book. It didn’t look like any of the other books in the library. Its cover was dark, almost black, and made of old leather that looked like cracked bark from a tree. The corners were worn down, and it had no title. Just a symbol. A silver moon. It shimmered faintly, even though the light in the library was dim.

The air was rich with the scent of aged paper and leather, a comforting contrast to the acrid smoke that haunted the streets outside. I moved slowly through towering shelves, fingertips skimming the spines of long-forgotten volumes. Titles embossed in faded gold hinted at lost wisdom: Histories of the Old World, Chronicles of Unity, Legends of the Phoenix. The last caught my attention—a striking cover depicting a phoenix rising from a blaze, wings spread wide.

But I knew some hill folk—especially a hoodoo man named Clive Hartley—who could read Latin, so I put it aside for later. I looked back into the box and of course, that’s when I found it. The book that’s caused all this trouble. The Way of Ah-Tzenul. Course, that’s not what’s printed on the cover. There’s a picture of some sorta tribal man squatting down with both hands raised to the sky etched into the cover and traced in silver. Otherwise, it’s a plain-looking book, all bound in pebbly black leather.