Far North Book Novels & Stories

“One! You have more?” But she was already on her way out, gently closing the door behind her. I couldn’t help but think of how graceful Darynem were. Such a sharp contrast from what we had been taught back in Anoryl. I took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the library. Where would I even start? “The oldest books are at the farthest shelves, history books below and magic above. That’s the order” a voice echoed from down the lane. Out of the shadows emerged a thin and tall old lady. She had thin glasses that were propped on the bridge of her nose but couldn't hide her bright orange eyes. She was beautiful with her pale blonde hair that tumbled beyond her shoulders in waves. “Thank you”, I

I grabbed a few and tucked them under my arm, climbing with my free hand. When I reached the highest shelf, I pulled out a thick book with a green cloth cover. The title was embossed in gold: “Medicinal Flora and Fauna of the Northern Territories”. Perfect. “This one looks good,” I called down to Nora. She grinned up at me. “Can you get that blue one too? Next to it?” Nodding, I reached for the blue book she indicated, stretching up on my tiptoes. My fingers brushed the spine but it was a little far. I had to lean to the side to reach it, my tongue poking out in concentration.

she exclaims, unlocking the door. So much for alone time. I suppose, time with another mate, or two is quite nice as well. Asim and Hikaru enter and Hikaru’s eyes go wide. “How is she sparking like a fae?” Hikaru asks. “My great, great, great grandfather was a prince of the Snow Court,” she whispers. “I don’t see the sparkles, but I see a beautiful woman who promised me we could continue later and a pretty fae man who I want to know better,” Asim growls.

I wandered through the compound until I found myself in the library, as usual. I browsed the shelves for a while before pulling out a thick book about the northern territories. The book was old, the pages yellowed and crinkled with age, but the hand-drawn illustrations were still beautiful. I got comfortable in one of the chairs near a window and began to read. Most of the content was about trade routes and pack histories, but one chapter caught my attention. It described the far northern mountains—the ones beyond the Thornwood, where no one ever set foot.

It was as if the other person was trying to totally consume the other person in their own way by fornicating. End of Book one.

I shoved his hand away as he tried to help with the luggage. “Fine. Tomorrow, the day after, or whenever. We have plenty of time to get divorced.” He shot me a skeptical look and replied, “You better stick to your word. Even if you beg me, I won’t get back together with you.” I didn’t say another word. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door. I had already called a cab and booked a hotel in advance. After days and nights without sleep, arranging everything for Christine’s funeral, I collapsed onto the couch at the hotel and instantly drifted off into a deep sleep. When I woke up, my phone was flooded with messages. A few of them were from Xavier.

My mouth literally fell open. I walked in, looking like a fish out of water. It was a small library with high shelves on three walls filled with books. On the fourth wall was a small alcove with a window seat and plush cushions. My feet moved of their own accord as I sat tentatively on them. It sank pleasantly. It was almost too good for reading, I thought. There was another love seat beside the alcove though and in the middle of the room - I gasped - a baby grand!

“It will clearly trace the precise path to Malakai’s permanent hideout, now that we have the mental coordinates.” The air seems to tighten and hum with focused energy. The dripping blood begins to bubble faintly, then slithers across the parchment like an independent, living entity. Slowly, deliberately, it snakes through illustrated mountain passes, deep valleys, and winding rivers before halting abruptly somewhere deep within the jagged northern mountain range, a remote, forgotten place where even the map’s original ink fades from age and obscurity.

I lay alone amidst the cabin's wreckage, each breath a battle. My phone lit up. It was Mia. "I won. Wait for it. I'll take everything you have now, including your title as the Luna, one by one." I stared at the text and let out a dry, crooked laugh. What was left for her to take? My wolf was slipping away, and so was I. As the pages of the wall calendar were torn away one by one, somehow, I felt calm.

"Fenrir fulfilled his dark purpose." "Yes." "Seraphina fulfilled hers." "Yes." "And what of the Child of Dawn?" The man's smile widened, an unsettling glimmer in his eye. "He exceeded every single expectation." He placed a heavy, leather-bound journal onto the stone table, the ancient dust swirling around it. The faded gold lettering on the cover read: *The Book of the First Age*. He flipped the heavy parchment pages open to the very final leaf. Inside was a meticulously detailed ink portrait. It wasn't a drawing of Fenrir, nor Elyria, nor the cosmic Seven Keepers. It was a portrait of a fierce young man with piercing golden eyes.