Jane Eyre Gutenberg Novels & Stories

The lady said typing away at the computer. Jade walked to the back wall, scanning the books, she found a book called ‘The Forgotten Sorrows.’ She planted herself on the floor and started to read into it. It didn’t detail too much into the whole history before the witch burnings, but when it started in on the witch burnings, it turned brutal.

Chapter 27: The First Edition The floor of The Narrative was really quiet but you could feel the excitement in the air as Elena and Julian got out of the elevator. The big studio in Brooklyn with its brick walls and huge windows was a big change from the crazy and stressful places Elena used to work when she was writing books for other people. Downstairs the teams that did research and design were sitting around a table looking at the final versions of the book before it was printed. They were getting ready to launch the Nora Vale imprint.

She was trying to unlock the page itself. “Julian, give me your hand!” she cried. “The Key needs a Soul to turn!” Julian didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hand. His blue light merged with the fiery red of the key. An explosion of purple light blasted them both backwards. The white page didn’t break—it changed. Darkness still surrounded them, but thousands of glowing text lines filled the air, forming a huge spiderweb of sentences. “It’s the Table of Contents,” Julian whispered, wide-eyed. He reached out to touch a line: Chapter 12: The Hospital Garden. As his finger brushed it, a fresh flower scent drifted by.

That was welcomed. So I passed. Barely. Most of what I found was useless. Faded genealogies. Half-translated incantations. A particularly nasty hex recipe that involved phoenix marrow and wasp venom. But then, tucked behind a broken scroll case, I found a journal. Thin. Fragile. Written in a language that predated modern Everley script. Took me nearly an hour to decode the title. “Of Fire Born: The Unquiet Flame.” It wasn’t filed, wasn’t indexed. Probably shouldn’t have even been there. But once I cracked it open, the hairs on my arms stood up. The entries were fragmented, some torn or water-damaged, but the recurring phrases jumped off the page.