Guild Books Novels & Stories

Inside: Not yet. I began scanning the shelves. Titles of all kinds filled the aisles. My hand slid across the spines at my eye level. A hard-covered green book smelling faintly of old paper drew my attention: The Origin of Elemental Sorcery. Then another—its gold embossed symbols of the four elements shimmering under the light: A History of Ignith, Hydros, Terragaia, and Glacius. Moving to the next shelf, I spotted a worn leather-bound book, edges frayed from overuse: Hybrid Wolves with Magical Signatures. And a thin one compared to the rest: The Forbidden Transition Between Elements.

If only it worked that way. As my consciousness faded, my soul felt yanked back—to that Halloween night that changed everything. Lights strung like jack-o'-lanterns, crowds surging like a river. I was gripping my little brother Matthew Duncan's hand—warm and soft—terrified that if I let go for even a second, the tide of people would swallow him up. But in the blink of an eye, a puppet-maker's stall caught his eye. He pointed at a fierce general figurine, bouncing with excitement. "Eli! I want that one! The general!"

With excitement, he leaped to his feet and said to Lydia, “Well done!” Ulricus beckoned his hand, and the books flew toward him in an instant. He quickly put the books away. Then, he closed his eyes and started examining the magic books in silence. Ulricus finally opened his eyes again thirty minutes later, his face filled with excitement and thrill. “The Fiery Lexicon, the Song of the Empire, the Shining Tome, Souleater Grimoire… All four books are here. What happened to the previous owner of the books?”

A first edition of Meridian's Bestiary, one of only three known copies, lay in the fireplace, its charred edges still smoking faintly. I crouched beside a toppled shelf, running my thumb over the embossed title of a fallen book: On the Nature of Forgotten Gods. The sheer breadth of knowledge in this room made my chest tighten. Histories of dead civilizations. Treatises on magic even the scholars feared to practice. Accounts of creatures that should have stayed myth. And as I stood in the midst of the wreckage, breathing in the scent of ink and blood and broken things, I understood why someone would take her.

"So sure." The book spun faster under his touch. Pages blurred together until they were just streaks of light and shadow. Then it stopped, settling on a page that looked like all the others but somehow wasn't. "She borrowed and returned the Bloodline Codex." "What is that?" "It is a book that records all supernatural houses. The ones that matter at least." My phone chimed. I fumbled for it, nearly dropping the stack of books in the process. The message was short and impersonal.

The shelves curve gracefully along the inner walls of the chamber, following the natural contours of the wood, each one laden with volumes of ancient lore and mystical knowledge. The books that line the shelves are a treasure trove of wisdom, collected over centuries by the Earth Goddess and Theo as they journeyed through the realms of magic and mystery. Leather-bound tomes and weathered scrolls share space with delicate manuscripts adorned with intricate illustrations, each one a testament to the rich tapestry of knowledge that lies within.

They didn't forget to send me pointless invites, but forgot to mention the one document I should know about, the one they signed with the mystics—without me. The moment I step into the inner hall, the room quiets like a flame snuffed out. The Elders are seated at the far end of the long table, wine-stained lips and smug little smiles wiped clean as they spot me. “You're here.” Henry, my grand-uncle doesn't bother hiding his displeasure at my presence. “Welcome, my child,” Another of the elders says, her voice familiar. No way. My lips curl into a genuine smile when my eyes land on her—Cilia, my mentor and the head of the Holomirs. Putting aside my anger, I walk over to her, planting a kiss o

Inside, the air felt colder. Thicker. Like every book here breathed a little on its own. Some were chained shut with silver locks. Some had covers made from materials I didn’t want to guess at—scales, bone, darkened velvet. Alaric reached for one specific volume. Thick. Heavy. Black leather with a sigil embossed on the front: a circle surrounding a cracked mirror. “This,” he said quietly, “is the kingdom’s only known complete record on necromancy.”

All magic had a signature, even dark magic. As I continued to scan the room, moving through it carefully, I found a single book resting upon an old stone pedestal. The leather was thicker than the others, held together with ebony stitching that looked as dark as the shadows slithering about. Scratched onto the front were the words, “Liber Sanguinis.” Book of Blood... My gut told me this was the book I was looking for. The one that held the spell Kimberly used to bind herself to Jude. It was coated in a thick layer of that tar-like substance.

They’d need to gather what they needed for the ritual and still perform it. Gemma’s hands shook, and she glanced at Evan as she opened the book. The writing was clear even for the age and weathered look of the pages. The pages yellowed to a golden shade, buttery soft, with a slightly brittle feel to them. “Well, if the first pages tell us anything. It’s a grimoire. If the title of the first page means anything. A blessing for propagation tells me it’s what we’re looking for.” “Blessing for propagation? What does that do?” Evan frowned in confusion.