Elven Fantasy Books 소설 & 이야기

he stopped for a second, clearing his throat, gaze meeting mine, before continuing, quieter this time, "I remembered seeing a copy of an Eleven book somewhere in the castle." "So we do have elven books," I register. The thought is more exciting than I anticipated, "they must be centuries old." The Master agrees, "Yes, but the Elves have mastered the art of preservation. It is not only their lives that could go on for centuries, but even their armor, their plants, and their books," he replied. I am more in awe of this than anything else, "It must have been magic then. To live for centuries?" I ask, searching his eyes.

His red eyes deepened, indicating his desire to sort things out. "One of the book of history has gone missing last night. The Book of Creation. And then this morning, it is found on its shelf again. Not a piece was taken nor changed," Merko said. I had been to their library a couple of times and had seen that book. However, due to my very busy schedule, I could not read it since I have to prioritize knowing more about potions. "It is not allowed to take the books out of the bibliotheca. How come that it has gone missing? Who was patroling last night?" Yamiko asked.

“Before mankind, when the Fae ruled all corners of this world, the Elves were the next greatest in numbers. When mankind came, during the many wars that were fought as they spread and pushed us back, the Elves divided into two camps. Those that believe that mankind are like children, and need a gentle, guiding hand, to recognise their wrongs and to learn and grow from them, and those that see mankind as a plague, that needs to be eradicated to the last child. “They began to call themselves the Light and the Dark. The last great wars were devastating on the numbers of the Dark Elves, and they withdrew into this mountain range. We believe they wait until they are again many and then will resum

At the very least, she was relieved to escape the confined space of the kitchen. As Marcus worked at the sink, Vivienne wandered back into the front room where her curiosity got the better of her. She drifted over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, her fingers tracing the spines of the array of worn paperbacks and hardcovers in a variety of colours and sizes. Expecting to find typical bodyguard or espionage novels, she was taken aback to discover a collection dominated by high fantasy titles and series. Lord of the Rings, The Way of Kings, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Witcher, there was even a collection of classic fairytales.

In the early morning sun, Elaine could still see Andrew's grin as he left her in the shadows of the night. “You idiot,” The knight murmured, fingering the bright gold letters of the book, thinking she should have let him kiss her for what he’d done. Both so frustrating and yet the salvation of her people, “You wonderful idiot.” Elaine took a seat in the wooden chair, her hand opening the age-old book. Eyes scanned the countless names and gifts of fire, ice, and even wind. Some could speak into minds, and those who were so powerful they could bring down kingdoms or even end the 200’s year war.

The noose Curzon stretched around Basharr was tightening. Neve, Buhen, and Basharr were all that stood between the Blood King and total conquest of the elven realms. She and Eden couldn't afford to practice their magic anymore—war beckoned them on. "Are you nervous?" Eden asked.

"I understand." Lorien seemed to regain a sliver of his composure. He gestured a trembling hand toward a tome resting before him, its binding the color of a deep sea, clasped in silver. "Perhaps we should begin here. A general overview. You may then delve deeper into whatever captures your interest." He opened the book. The vellum pages whispered as they turned, filled with an elegant, flowing script I could not decipher—the Old Elven tongue.

"That book carries the curse of power. The Moranos used it once to conquer our ancestors. We will not let history repeat itself. The book must be destroyed." Elowen laughed softly, her tone sharp as a blade. All eyes turned to her as she reached into her cloak and pulled out the black book. "Name your price," she said. The Atlan master frowned. "What game are you playing?" "Jewelry, gold, boxes of money," Elowen said carelessly. "Too small," she added, tilting her head. "I need more." The master glared at her. "Fine." He snapped his fingers, and his men brought forward boxes of gold and silver.

"Longer than it takes me to rip your throat out. You rejected me. Called me worthless. Now I'm the one with roots coming out of the ground. How's that feel?" He laughed wet. "Feels like you're dead already. The elders don't negotiate. They erase. And when they come, they'll burn this whole keep just to get to you." Gunnar grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the table once. Hard. "Names. Who's riding with Jakob? How many shamans?" Sveinn spat blood on the floor. "You'll find out when they're at your walls. Elva's blood is a beacon now. Every pack that hates the idea of one king is coming. And they all want her head on a spike before she wakes up fully."

She’d used the floating particles to make herself visible. Elsabet stared into the emptiness, averting her attention back to the book in her hands. The cover said, ‘The Book of Immortals’. Thick leather decorated with interweaving vines and roses. She recognized the depiction as the emblem found throughout the castle. Covering doors and tables, even the drawbridge. She drew a breath, realizing what she likely held. “Thank you.” Elsabet held it reverently as she made way back to her chair to read. It told of men who’d been born and raised in the Upper Lands, the world above Ardae, who’d found their way into Ardae to avoid a second persecution.