Jonathan Harker's Journal Novels & Stories

However, in the end, he straightened up and let out a heavy and solemn sigh. "Miss, this is Professor Harker from Asterion. He contacted him about this as well." As Lucy entered the ward, another servant from the Hill family approached her and whispered, "Yesterday, Mister Harker was delayed due to another surgery. He rushed here as soon as he arrived in South City today, saying he wanted to check on the Mister Hill Senior's condition." Upon hearing the voice behind her, Professor Harker turned around and, upon seeing Lucy, summoned his remaining strength, mustering a smile as he spoke, "Miss Hill, I'm Jimmy Harker from Asterion Concord Hospital."

With nothing left to do, out of curiosity to see more of what Atlas has created I flipped through the pages of his journal, my excitement was short lived as I stumbled upon a shocking revelation. My eyes widened as I read about his illness, which ravaged him every full moon and turned him into a monster thirsty for werewolf blood. I felt my heart sink as I tried to comprehend it all. I opened the journal further and read the words describing Atlas's illness. A feeling of shock washed over me as I tried to comprehend what I was reading. My heart started to beat faster, and my hands trembled as I turned the pages, searching for more information.

He tirelessly sought information from those who had known the castle's history for centuries, hoping to unravel the mystery that bound him to her. Days turned into weeks, and Tyler's relentless pursuit led him to a hidden chamber deep within the castle, where ancient journals and scrolls lay untouched by time. As Tyler sifted through the yellowed pages of the ancient journals, his eyes widened in disbelief. A passage caught his attention, describing a brief encounter between a vampire and a human on a moonlit night—a passionate encounter that had transcended the boundaries of their respective worlds. The words resonated deeply within Tyler, stirring memories he had buried deep within his sub

“He probably thinks that if he tells you how bad it is, you’ll leave him. Or worse, that he’ll come across as…” “Insane,” I whispered. Damon nodded. I thought about the journal. The red ink. The ramblings about blood and murder. That wasn’t a prank, was it? It was him. He had written those notes, maybe while he was lost in the midst of a vision. “What do we do?” I whispered.

For half a second, the corner of his mouth moved. Almost. Then the house groaned. The moment died. The second door slammed again. Deeper this time. Not upstairs. Not downstairs. Somewhere in between. Which made no sense. Naturally. I looked toward the hallway. “That sounded closer.” Damien picked up the journal from the floor. The pages were blank again. Of course they were. Haunted books apparently enjoyed dramatic timing. He handed it to me carefully, making sure our fingers did not touch. I noticed. He noticed me noticing.

Turning back to the diaries, I hoped I would find something in them that offered an explanation as to what kind of spell was cast on the filing cabinet and what it was potentially protecting. Grabbing the journals from the desk, I took them into the master suit and made myself comfortable at my desk. I didn’t have much time to read through them today. I only had an hour left before I had to high tail it back to Yen’s. Setting a timer, so I wouldn’t lose track of time, I delved into the first journal. [Date: April 8, 1862 Dear Henry,

Someone had been there, watching her. She shut the door quickly, bolting it this time. Her mind raced with questions. Was it one of the other guests? Vivienne with her sharp smirk and knowing eyes? Dr. Crane, whose intensity suggested he knew far more than he let on? Or someone else entirely? Emma returned to the desk, her resolve hardening. Whoever it was, they weren’t going to intimidate her out of uncovering the truth. She reopened the journal, her fingers tracing the diagrams. One in particular caught her eye: a sketch of what appeared to be a large clock, its face adorned with the same interlocking triangles. The notes referred to a hidden chamber, accessible only through what Haverston

He broke off, his breath shuddering. “What happened?” I swallowed, my entire body shaking. I was still in a daze about the situation myself. All I knew was that the journal was enchanted from the very first line. By who? Maureen Caldert? Another powerful person? I didn't know. “Lucan… I—I'm not looking at you because I can’t see you. I’m blind.” “WHAT?” His hands dropped on my chin. He surged closer, one hand sliding behind my head, and the other gripping my waist as if he expected me to collapse again. “What do you mean you’re blind—you were fine—you left an hour and half—Juno, tell me exactly what happened. Now.”

Cross-referenced dates and names. Hours passed. The pile of books grew. And slowly. Very slowly. A picture started to form. Julian wasn't just old. He was deliberate. Calculated. Every move he made had purpose. Every alliance. Every conflict. Every victim. "Here," Tormund said. Pointing to a passage in a journal dated 1782. "Account from a Scottish pack. Says a vampire named Julian approached them after their Alpha was killed in battle. Offering condolences. Offer help. Three months later the entire pack was destroyed by internal conflict."