Iron Coffins Book Novels & Stories

The door clicked shut behind me and I sighed. Hot air filtered along my skin and brought with it the stench of decay. The gems on my forehead burned hotter, giving the room an eerie glow. All around me were thousands of honeycomb shaped coffins, home to supernatural prisoners required to serve out their eternal existence within.

The coffin was covered in a layer of frost. Adrian then recalled that Nicholas had encountered an attack from someone laying a coffin in Mount Shangspar previously. As they neared the coffin, Adrian held Rozi back and warned, "Be careful. One thing I've learned from Enigma City is that whoever's inside a coffin may not be dead, but a zombie.” Rozi nodded and summoned her sword, while Adrian summoned Dragonbane. Every step they took on that mountain was like walking over thin ice. The pair then cautiously approached the coffin.

Maybe the facade only looks small with the help of optical illusion. I didn't speak. I looked around and there were many books scattered there. There is also a cauldron over the fire inside the fireplace. Something was brewing and the ladle was spinning and mixing the liquid. I tried not to be amazed but even so, I was still amazed by everything I was seeing. "Sicario, is he the one you say is your grandson?" Merlin asked Grandpa. Grandpa smiled. He looks proud like I am some kind of a prized possession.

Betty filled my coffee cup. I wiped a crusty cluster of sediment from the corner of my eyes and mumbled, "Thank you." She gave me a sad smile and shuffled back into the stacks. I groaned, sipping coffee the consistency of motor oil. Time to get back to work. I sure as hell wasn't going to leave it alone. Not when I was so close to the answers I wanted. Fire brewed in my belly. I picked up the book in front of me. A demonology book. The history of incubi.

Wouldn't that mean he had a kid somewhere? And the skeletons just keep growing. The first compartment is filled with files, cheque books, pens, notepads and other boring stuff. I close it and pull open the next one, and I freeze for a few seconds, red creeping to my cheeks, and my anger temporarily forgotten. There's a book with a very vivid image of what looks to be an orgy on it. Written in bold is the title, The Kama Sutra. There are several different notes attached inside, and as I push it aside, I falls out.

"How dare you lie to me! I'm going to kill you!" James tilted his head to avoid the blade. Gritting his teeth through the pain of his broken hand, he shoved the robber aside. When the other robber saw this, he stabbed his knife into James' back. "Dad!" Celeste screamed. "Watch out, Dad!" The moment the knife pierced his back, James smiled. "Don't be scared, Celeste. I'll be okay." Then, he collapsed in a pool of his own blood. Still, his gaze was fixed on Naomi and Celeste.

"Heriberto is draining his own people to feed the Siphon. David said he's building a 'throne of bones' in the main cavern using the calcified remains of the people he drains. He's keeping the Codex in the lower mines, guarded by the golems, because the rock there is lead-heavy and blocks the radiation." I looked at the map. It made sense. Strategically, it was the only play Heriberto had if he wanted to maintain stability. "It's a heist," Marcus said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "We go in. We grab the book. We get out before god realizes his diary is missing." "Who is 'we'?" Silas asked. "The Pack can't get close to the rot without dying." "Me," I said, standing up. "A

At the center of the cover lies a raised symbol: a drop of blood, intricately detailed, as if about to trickle down the cover, appearing almost alive. The clasp of the book is a masterpiece of brutality and symbolism. Made of heavy metal, it is adorned with tiny skulls and bones, reminders of the lethal power contained within the tome. The clasp seems to demand a blood pact to be opened, with a small blade embedded, ready to make the necessary cut. When I finally open the Bloodbound Codex, I feel the temperature around me drop abruptly, as though the very air had been sucked into the book. The atmosphere becomes denser, heavier, as if the essence of the book were absorbing the vitality aroun

I was late—dinner had started, and I’d planned it that way, hoping to slip in unnoticed. The oak doors swung open, a servant nodding as I strode past, my tailored suit feeling like armor. I didn’t return the greeting, my mood too dark, my mind still tangled with Lila’s scent, her screams. The dining room’s chandelier cast a warm glow, but the air was thick with tension.

"He's hiding something from me. Or the world is hiding it from him." I began to move through the rows of the last section, where the shelves were made of actual wood, smelling of cedar and rot. This was the dead Row, where books too fragile for digital scanning were kept. I spent hours there, my fingers trailing over spines that crumbled at the touch. I checked liturgy of the Fire, Genealogy of the Unmarked, and the Shadow Rites to see if I would see something concerning what I was. But there was nothing but dry, academic theories.