Old Novel Novels & Stories

Late one night, I came across a post asking everyone to share their wedding photos. I was about to leave mine in the comments when I saw a pinned reply. It was a set of wedding photos of my wife and my cousin. My mind went blank. I clicked into the poster's profile. There were more than a hundred posts, and almost all of them were wedding photos. I scrolled all the way down and opened the first one. At the top of the comments was a message from my childhood best friend: [Finally public! I've been waiting forever for this. Wishing you two a lifetime together!] Right below it was my mother's comment: [You both look wonderful. Take good care of each other.] There were also comments f

An unfamiliar discomfort stirred somewhere beneath my ribs. I buried it quickly. “Some of these texts were written in the Old Tongue. I have little doubt that Orrosta is an Old Tongue word as well,” I continued evenly. “Very few people are still capable of interpreting it correctly. Fragments like these are easy to misread, especially after centuries of damage and careless copying.” Scarlett lifted her head, a fragile spark of hope returning to her eyes. “People like who?” I regarded her in silence for a moment before answering.

I asked as I searched the bookshelves for anything new "Well... We had a donation come in last week, so knock yourself out" I smiled at him before I went back to looking for a good book to read As I was browsing thorough the books "We had a few book which are quite old... They should be good" Jonathan said from the front "Okay... Thanks" I picked up some books and went to the next aisle and sure enough there were so many old books Now don't get me wrong... I hate history at school but history from an old book... Had something different about it... You could even say there was something special about an old book

"With the moment the Old Court made their first mistake." He opened a door, and I was pulled into the memory. Two thousand years ago. A human village on the edge of what would become the Ashlands. I saw through Cael's eyes—or rather, through the eyes of the man he'd been before. Younger. Mortal. A scholar who studied the old magic, the kind that predated written language. The Old Court came to him with an offer: Become something new. Something stronger. Help them create warriors who could defend their territories from human expansion.

“Because I miss you, I miss you so much that my hair turns gray.” “Oh my god, are you blaming me? Then I won't pull out your hair anymore. After we get married, you will be with me every day and your hair will turn black again.” “Once your hair is gray, how can it be black again? Keep pulling them out, don't let people think I'm an old buffalo that likes to eat young grass when we get engaged.” Emily laughed, continuing to grope on his head. However, in her heart, she was thinking about his words. Once hair turns gray, it will never be black again, some lost things will never be found again, and some broken things cannot be mended.

A textbook on herbal remedies, titled: Herbal Remedies of the Old World. The cover looked old and battered. I pulled it down, flipping through the yellowed pages for a moment before tucking it under my arm and taking it back to the table. The clock had struck three by then, and Damon was packing up his laptop. He glanced at the title as I set it down and began sliding my other books into my bag. “What’s this?” he asked, picking it up. “Herbal Remedies of the Old World. Hm.” “It’s for the trial,” I said with a shrug. “Figure it could be useful.”

Beneath the tree sat an old man. Ordinary. Completely ordinary. Gray hair. Kind eyes. Simple clothing. Nothing about him seemed remarkable. And yet, Nova instantly knew. This was the First Dream. The oldest possibility. The first future that never happened. The old man smiled warmly. Like someone greeting a granddaughter after a long journey. "There you are." Nova laughed despite herself. "Everyone keeps saying that." The old man chuckled. "Because we've been waiting a very long time." He gestured toward the empty space beside him.

It is a female with white eyes and ancient druidic runes all over her face—a seer. She keeps chanting while she looks into my eyes, and I could swear she is judging my soul. Then, when she stops her chanting, she points at me with a long, almost skeletal finger. “In the darkest night, Go to the old citadel. At the last hour, The old altar is the answer. When everything seems lost, Remember that ancient blood is the key. What was once green is now crimson red.” Mark It was around 11 AM when Old Tom came to see me in my office.

I heard the sound of someone suck in a breath, the direction pointing towards Aunt Aurelia. Father's fingers stilled above the dark wood, the temperature dropping lower now. “The…Sage?” Father said the words slowly, the corner of his lips firming. My lips parted, eyes drifting between Father and Rhain. It was a terrible idea, the Sage was rumored to be the oldest wolven, his mind having left him in his old age. He was nothing more than a husk that had air going through it. “It is the only way.” Rhain insisted when Father discarded the idea.

“All of these are mostly about history. I guess we’re looking for a book that would hopefully explain the Houses in Terra Lycaon?” “I mean we already have a book for that,” I say. “It’s just not updated enough. It’s not showing anything from before the time my family took over. I know that there were a lot of old families during that time. It would make sense to find them here in the older books.” “Yeah, and where do we start?” August laughs as he points at the stockpile. “Which one is the oldest?” He picks one up. “Is it this one bound with leather made from Human skin? Or the one that’s barely bound and falling apart at the seams?”