Shackled Book の小説・ストーリー

She was slowly turning sober, but she still couldn’t do anything besides glare at the people abducting her. Serenity had already become short on luck. There wasn’t a single soul inside and outside the restroom, and the way out was unguarded. Perhaps because there were only her and her acquaintances present, who are all on the dancefloor at the moment. Just as she was about to give up, she thought she could still free herself and run. She’s certain it’ll be fine as long as she gets to the dancefloor where they can’t just abduct her. However, using her pointed heels was removed from her options. They took her bag, her heels, and every jewelry she wore in her body, leaving her with only her clo

It was uniquely crafted, shaped like three sets of a curvy triangle with three pointed stars made from metal rings all joined together at a center. “That's a shakra. A magical object weapon used by Grishan witches,” Triss slit her palm and pressed the blood against the wall with a few markings, and instantly, a small part of the wall shifted and she took out a book. It was familiar. The one I'd seen when I first came to the spell room. The Book of Shadows and Magic. I read out the name internally. Strangely, I couldn't take my eyes off the book until Triss returned it back to the wall and sealed it magically just as she'd retrieved it.

The librarian didn’t fall so much as… come unbound. Once the lockbook was out of its chest, its whole body lost the logic that had been holding it together. Volumes that had been ribs and limbs and vertebrae a heartbeat earlier juddered, then shook loose, tumbling in awkward cascades.

Some wounds take longer to find than they do to feel. But I never stopped checking my phone for his name. My apartment was small, quiet, and cluttered with secondhand furniture. A chipped table. A bookshelf that leaned slightly to the left. A couch too soft for its own good. It was nothing like the sleek city life I’d once dreamed of. And it was perfect. I got a job at a little bookstore down the street. The kind of place that still used paper receipts and smelled like old wood and dust jackets. It was owned by a woman named Lila—tough as nails and twice as sharp.

my voice thick with an emotion I was still learning to name again. It was more than gratitude; it was peace. Just then, the auctioneer announced the most shocking news of the night. "The centerpiece, Rebirth from the Cocoon, has sold for an incredible five million dollars! The buyer wishes to remain anonymous, but the bid was placed from an IP address originating in… Chicago." My blood ran cold. "A buyer from Chicago?" I gripped Alexander’s hand, my knuckles white. "Don’t worry," he soothed, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin. "It’s a big city. It’s just a coincidence."

Kneeling down, she picked it up and read the title. “THE BOOK OF FORBIDDEN SPELLS.” There was no name of the creator anywhere on the book. Emmeline was not sure who had put the book in there but it was completely locked. The book was locked by a physical lock and a magical spell. She could tell because there was magic heat coming out from it.

I replied back as I stretched my hands to remove the painting but it didn’t move, instead it slid and revealed a medium sized box. I took the box out and placed it on the desk. It was an old mahogany box with gold engravings on it. “Sinclair” I opened it carefully and revealed a very thick brown greenish book with about 200 pages made of parchment or something like and had the title written on it with big bold handwriting: “BOOK OF SHADOWS” I smiled happily, I couldn’t believe that I had it in my hands and looked at Kevin who was still anxious saying: “We found it” he nodded his head and was about to speak when we suddenly heard an applause behind us.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TYLA Point of View The chains shook with every step I took, a constant reminder that I was held captive. Five steps from the bed to the window. Seven to the bathroom door. Twelve to the bookshelf in the corner. I had counted them all, memorized the exact length, learned precisely how far I could go before the metal bit into my ankle and brought me up short. Days had passed since I had been locked in my room. How many, I couldn't be sure anymore. The window offered glimpses of daylight and darkness, but in my disfigured state, everything began to blue. I couldn't distinguish between day and night. I limped across the room, the chain dragging behind me like a reluctant shad

I tilted the spine of an unmarked black book. The shelf groaned, wood shifted, and dust scattered as the entire unit shuddered and began to slide apart, splitting down the middle like an ancient wound reopening. A narrow gap yawned open before me, dark as pitch. I stepped back, jaw tight. “Always dramatic,” I muttered. With a final groan, the shelves sealed behind me, the outside world shutting away. Darkness swallowed me whole. I raised a hand and snapped my fingers.