Novel & Cerita Scarred Book

( Warning: 18+: this chapter contains sensitive content and some readers might find it distressing) ( The night Scarlett died) Moraine slapped her lap as she laughed out so hard, along with Ava and Zaira, overshadowing the whimpering sound of Scarlett beneath her. Moraine grabbed Scarlett's hair, causing her to yelp as she sat on her back; Scarlett, who was in a wolf position carrying Moraine on her back, felt pain seething through her veins. She felt a whip on her butt and yelped in pain.

A massive wolf stepped into the clearing, black fur matted, its eyes wild with something inhuman. A corrupted creature. The rogue. It stood still, watching me, as if amused by the look on my face. Its scent hit me like a wall. Rotting magic, ancient decay. It was death incarnate.

He kept looking at her and she found the tiled floor to be the most interesting thing to look at in the whole bookstore. But she was also worried about him being hurt. The wooden shelf was old but not light, it was heavy and the wooden pieces that came breaking down must have hurt his back because as she noticed, he was only wearing a white shirt that stretched his muscles which also attracted a lot of female attention to him and Scar didn't like that for some reason. His thin shirt could not have shielded his back. Scar was itching for him to turn around so she could see how much he was hurt but he was continuously staring at her without saying a word.

Scarred. "What the hell happened to you?"

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.

“There it is again.” “What?” My voice rasped. She reached, hesitating, then brushed her fingers above my collarbone, where the witch’s magic had slammed into me. Not touching skin. Just hovering. Her fingers trembled. “You’re scarred,” she whispered. “Not your body, but your aura. Something left a burn. A mark.” I felt it then. The faintest chill tracing down my spine. “I thought she was dead.” My voice broke like cracked glass. “I thought the Codex destroyed her.”

Can you imagine if something had happened to you? Scarlett looked at Alex and lowered her gaze in shame. —I’m sorry, Alex. You were right. I shouldn’t have gone into the forest alone… it was reckless. Alex sighed, trying to calm the mix of anger and worry still inside him. —That book, Scarlett… —he said, pointing at the object she was clutching tightly—. You have to get rid of it. You should burn it. She looked up, shocked, and hugged the book even tighter. —Never. This book belonged to my mother… it’s all I have left of her.

Gently, slowly, he guided her hand up and down her body, ran their fingers along each and every scar. He left the largest one for last, knowing that this was the one that frightened and disgusted her the most. That asshole had sliced her from her breastbone straight down the middle of her body, all the way to her navel. The scar was thick and raised, an angry, vivid purple, and every time she looked at it, she remembered how terrified she had been at that moment. She'd truly thought he was going to gut her like a fish; she'd thought she was going to die.

There was this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that it was so to cover the scars. Karica turned sideways and patted the space beside her, offering me to lie down and I did. She snuggled closer, hiding away in my huge frame and my arms engulfed her. “I didn't like those scars, I wanted to cover them,” her words came out fragmented. She seemed so small, so fragile and broken to me in that instant. I had failed to realise how much that affected her. Still did. We men wore scars with pride, she must have too if they weren't wrongfully given to her. It was a constant reminder of the pain that was inflicted on her.

“What have you found?” “Death, black magic. A little hints about the unbinding.” “What does it say?” Janeka said sitting beside her. “A scar determined who would be offered up to the unbinding. A scar in the palm.” “Can I have the book?” Janeka said waiting to see for herself. She took the book from Freya. “I'm guessing Eamon had that mark.” Freya's mood flipped a switch when she made mention of him. The man who loved her dearly. The thoughts of his early death wanted to take over her, but she began to breathe gently before she got herself back.