Leather Bound Bible Niv Novels & Stories

Taking a sharp turn, I entered the corridor and saw Ethan and Darius coming from the other side. We all rushed into the office where Nicholus was sitting with a letter in front of him on the desk. He was eyeing it as if it was a ticking time bomb. My heart lurched up my throat as I recognized the leather binding. As the North placed their letters in the cylindrical box, the South wrapped its Royal Parchment in the leather binding. Lunging forward, I wrapped my fingers around the leather and picked it up. My heart did a quick flip-flop. After so many months, I was holding something from the South.

The first thing I noticed was the notebook. Soft leather. Ivory-colored. Elegant but simple. My fingers brushed across the cover, and my heart skipped when I saw the gold foil lettering pressed perfectly into the surface. A.D. My initials. How were they able to do that! I slowly opened it, running my thumb along the thick cream pages. The paper felt expensive…smooth, almost silky. The kind of notebook you wouldn’t want to ruin with messy sketches. The kind that made you want to draw something worthy of it.

The complete volume of the World Almanac on the top row, varying books about business and commerce on the middle, and a compilation of untitled white leather-bound books on the bottom. The white books caught my attention quickly. Weird. It looked specifically custom-made. I was almost tempted to open one of them when I found a familiar-looking book placed singularly at the far corner of the shelf. It was bound using black lamb skin. The title written on the spine made me frown as I read it. ‘The God’s Emerald Eyes.’

I unwrapped the package with the care of a priest handling a sacred text. The notebook. It wasn't much to look at. A simple, black leather-bound journal, its cover worn smooth from years of handling. But the moment my fingers touched the familiar texture, a dangerous calm settled over me. The panic was gone. The confusion was gone. All that remained was purpose, cold and absolute. This was my bible. My grimoire. My vengeance.

' I held my right hand out and started reciting words that I cannot understand myself. "q̶̱͓̭͚͒̉̀̽͂͘ẖ̵̞̩̏͒̽͘͘w̸̹̜͗̆̓̄̈́̽c̶̯̼͉͋̀͛̋̿̎͂̐͝͝ͅṋ̸̦̪͍̆͋̔͆̒͠͝p̶̡̨̺̜̱͙̙̙̪̈́̓͆̕ͅs̷͎̝̜̦͚͓͌̄̚͠n̷̢̡̡͉͙̆̿̀̆͆̊̿̈́͛̚â̵̻̫̗̣̠̼̮͍̼͑͗̆ ę̵̛̟̯͓͉̜̙͇͖̇f̷͉̪̬̈́͋̀̋̀̍̓̋" I followed what Nova had taught me, at least what I remember. And moments later, a thick leather-bound book fell in my hand.

I just swallowed and nodded weakly . Then saw something under his arm. He followed my gaze, his smile growing even bigger, if that were possible. He pulled out his own yellow hardcover copy of The King Wears Yellow, which for some odd reason, finally moved me to speak. “Where . . . where’s your Bible?” Something flickered in his eyes.

But this book is a map written in a language I feel is familiar but I can’t place it. I run my fingers over a passage in the middle of the page, the ink humming faintly under my skin. It’s not just a historic passage about magic, it’s a warning. The binding placed on Elias and I wasn’t just to hide us, it really was to hold us back. The weaver’s mark—woven with love and desperation by our mother—wasn’t made to be broken easily. Bit it’s unraveling now. And every time another piece comes to life I feel more, smell more, hear more, want more.

How could she have the guts to eat when Gideon was not eating? She gritted her teeth and put the food package on the container, putting it on the dashboard. Gideon saw what she did and his brow raised, "You are not eating anymore?" Jewel shook her head. "I'll eat later." Sighing, she looked around the dashboard. "Did you bring a Bible? I want to read." Gideon glanced at her for a moment. "In the glove compartment," he said and looked at the road ahead again. She opened the small hinged door on the dashboard and she saw a pocketbook size New Testament. Jewel looked at her husband for a moment before taking the small book and opening it up, reading from the book of Matthew.

She wandered up to one of the shelves and ran her fingers across the books worn spines; they smelled of dust and age. The books looked essential and historical. Nueva pulled a brow leather book from its neat row. The front cover had beautifully intricate designs etched into the aged skin, and a thin leather string locked the book's covers. She gently untied the knot and flicked through the aged yellow pages; Eira stirred inside her head. Nueva couldn't understand the language; it looked complicated and old, but the hand-drawn pictures drew her in.