Novelas y relatos de Neloth Black Book

“He’s still alive… for now. But you’re not here for him. Not really.” Elira turned slowly, holding something out. A book. Bound in black leather and laced with living veins of gold. The Grimoire of Binding. “The truth of our bloodline is in here. What they stole from us. What you need to see before you judge me.” Elara took it, her fingers tingling the moment she touched it. Visions stabbed through her mind—flashes of queens drowned in fire, children marked by fate, a kingdom cursed by its own magic. And at the center of it all…

Opening the door, Helma found Neil by the bookshelf, pulling out a folder. He looked up, surprised to see her. "Hemmy, what's up?" he asked. "There's something we need to talk about." Helma faltered, searching for the right words. Seeing her unusual demeanor, Neil walked over to his desk and set the folder aside. "Spill it. What's going on? Did you find Ethan?" She shook her head. "It's not Ethan. Remember the Book of Medical Remedies I mentioned before? The one with the golden thread designs hidden inside? We've finally traced where they came from."

The Lorths' magic was distinct in that it required them to tear a page from a book and repeat the incantation in order for it to work. Only beginners had to bring their scriptures to a fight, according to Nelanian. Yulcite mages who had mastered Religion magic had mastered their scriptures and did not need to carry them to a fight. The quality of a Lorth's grimoire, on the other hand, may be used to rank them. Grimoires with soft covers showed that the mage was still a novice, while those with finer covers, such as leather or embellished covers with gems and gold, showed that the magician was at a higher level. When Nelanian saw the brilliant ruby on the grimoire's cover, he knew he couldn't

And then Donato stopped. Because the shadows finally peeled back enough for him to see it. A stone pedestal alone. Centered beneath a beam of pale blue light like moonlight trapped underground. And resting on that pedestal… was a single book. Black, old, bound in rough, darkened leather. Its surface cracked like something had clawed it. And around it circling like frost drifted a faint, ghostly mist. Donato's breath left him in a shocked, trembling exhale. "The Black Great Book…" he whispered.

The floor is pure white stone, cold as winter snow under my bare feet. In the dead centre sits the obsidian table. On top of it lies the black book. It is massive, bound in iron and dragon-hide, requiring the strength of two alpha lycans just to shift it from the stone. But only royal blood can break the seal. I place my right palm flat against the cold leather. "Adriel of the House of Luperca." The iron clasps snap open with a loud click. The pages begin to turn on their own, flipping through centuries of dead kings and forgotten wars until they stop at my own generation.

One that just needed a little push to put him in higher spirits. After we'd demolished the entire thing, Noir had talked softly about his time in Milan, about what he actually did for the Black Rose. He was their information specialist, the one who could hack into anything, find anyone, make people disappear from databases like they'd never existed and he was also the guy to torture information out of people and tie up loose ends whenever Lorenzo wanted the ends messy. I knew that much from what I'd witnessed. He spoke about it freely with me, and I listened without judgement. I seemed to have begun developing an immunity for illegal shit.

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.”

But that had been taken from her, and it was all because of Nestor. Loleng’s hand trembled as she reached for the vial of black potion that sat beside the basin. The liquid inside was thick and dark, like oil, and as she uncorked the bottle, the room filled with the stench of sulfur. She poured the potion into the basin, watching as the water bubbled and hissed in response.

It is time. Yes, it is time. What she had been expecting had finally come. Why does Alessia want The Black Book? The legendary Black Book contains the past histories of each leader of the powerful Mafia families — The Dante's who were in charge of hard drugs, the Russo's who were in charge of assassinations, the Fernandez's who were in charge of illegal oil business and the Santini’s who were in charge of assassinations too. Only with the help of The Black Book would she be able to achieve her aim. Her goal is to utilize the secrets in the Black Book to protect her growing family and play the other mafia families dirty.

"In life, the less people know, the longer they live. Your mother understood that, Becca. That is why she is still alive while my colleagues are... gone." He stepped toward the briefcase, his movements slow and deliberate. "Open it, Adeyemi’s son. The girl has gone, but Olayinka's men are probably not far behind. They know I am here. They are just waiting for the right moment to turn this 'Web of Silence' into a shroud." My fingers moved to the latch of the ledger. I didn't look at Becca. I didn't look at the Doctor. I looked only at the faded ink of my father’s handwriting on the cover.