Original Burn Book Cover Novels & Stories

Artemisia had briefly forgotten that that day wasn't normal, she's starting to realize, and think, that maybe she's not the one who's going crazy. The girl approached the shelves and Helga's voice danced again in her mind. "The navy blue cover book will tell you a story, I can't tell you which one, only the book is entitled to that." Artemisia didn't understand, but soon found the book near the second door. It was a heavy book, but not as thick as expected. It had a glow reminiscent of sunbeams touching the greenish water of a river or lake. It also had nymphs drawn on the cover and side of the leaves.

--- Burning Empire Chapter 1 Matteo’s heart hammered like a drum as he slipped through the crowded streets, clutching the small leather pouch tight beneath his coat. The city buzzed all around him — neon signs flickering, voices shouting, music pounding from nearby bars. But Matteo barely heard it. All he could focus on was the pounding in his chest and the sharp, cold weight in his pocket. This was it. His first real score.

Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling. Inside was their book. “The Art of Staying.” Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin. Franc stared at it like it might whisper back. “Feels unreal,” Yam said. Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish. “I think this book breathes,” Franc said.

Darius hadn’t really drawn a perfect picture but it was good enough for me to recognize what it was. I turned to push off the chair when the light from my table lamp reflected off the cover of the book. It was an inscription that was in gold but covered with dust. I wiped the cover and the gold sparkled more. My eyes widened as I matched the symbol. The book itself was made by them. I flipped the hardcover to the preface I had skipped and traced my fingers to the bottom of the page, there it was again, the symbol! Beneath it was an inscription that read:

“Is the book of Eilistrae.” She set the heavy, leather-bound tome on a small table. It was massive- the size of a small television- bound in dark brown leather that looked almost black with age. Strange symbols were burned into the cover: a swirling spiral, a dagger, and a star with thirteen points. In the center was a handprint, pressed deep into the leather, almost like a seal. “Only those with witch blood can open it,” Bonnie explained, and she nodded at Ava. “Go on, baby.”

Instead of using a lock an organic substance that resembled thin hardened vines or entwined prickly twigs wrapped around the cover and held it closed. They appeared to have a slight nearly living pulse. I scowled curious. What sort of book was this and why was it bound this way? I tugged harder my fingers grazing the rough intricate surface as I attempted to untangle the odd binding. Then a piercing burning pain. I let out a gasp. I looked down at my finger as I flinched away dropping the book with a loud thump. My skin had a thin deep line that was already crimson and dripping blood. With a sharp hiss of pain I muttered a curse. I had been deeply and sharply cut by the binding.

Older than anything I’d ever seen. The cover was wrapped in dark, cracked leather, etched with a strange symbol I didn’t recognize. A gold circle was embedded into the spine, and within it, a single quill rested delicate and ivory, as if plucked from something divine. Curiosity tugged at me. I reached for it. The moment my fingers brushed the surface, the book pulsed. A gentle hum, like a heartbeat, thrummed through my palm.

A book with a leather binding. No diamonds. No large sums of money. No secret weapons or blueprints. Just a book. I felt stupid for a moment. Then I reached in and took it out. The weight of it was substantial and firm. The spine was strengthened with old thread and the leather has become smooth with use and age. I had never seen a single crest stamped on a cover before. A crown, dagger and an ember. All three combined to form a single horrifying symbol. I took my place at the desk and got it open. and started reading.

They were all beautiful and made the whole book look very impressive. The edges of the pages were gilt in two shades of gold, with a pattern of flames. And there was a large leather and gold clasp holding it closed which was engraved with more motifs of flames. The corners also each had a gold triangular brace, each with another fire opal in. Eliza stares at the book in wonder,

While I might not know many words yet, I know enough that I can read the title of this book. “The Story of Carnelia the Great,” I mumble to myself. Opening the book to the first page I see the name “Primus” scrawled in an uneven hand on the cover. So this was his as a child. I smile, thinking of what a little monster he must have been like as I turn to the title page. “CARNELIA” is hand-lettered in bold calligraphy. Underneath, is the image of a gold and red dragon, her body curled in the sky, replacing the sun.