Skyrim Black Book: Untold Legends Novels & Stories

Lifting her into my arms, I met the eyes of my brothers, my allies. “Let’s go.” As we walked out of the dungeon, leaving the carnage behind, I made a vow. This crime against my mate would not go unpunished. I would burn their kingdoms to the ground to get my revenge. [End Book One] Read on as the adventures continue and more mysteries unravel in Book Two in the Enlightened Child Saga: Unshadowed.

He bowed and was gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving the heavy satchel behind. I lunged for the bag the moment the tent flap sealed. I untied the cord with shaking fingers and pulled out the book. It wasn't ancient and brittle. It was a modern reprint, but the cover read: Healers' Lore: The Legacy of the Wounded Crown. It was a medical text, disguised as a historical relic.

Cold like a tomb that had been sealed for centuries. In the center, on a stone table, lay a book. It was old, leather-bound, its pages yellowed and brittle. The symbols on the cover matched the symbols on the Kingslayer, on the rings, on the dagger from the chest. They pulsed faintly, as if the book was still alive. Lysander opened it. His honey eyes scanned the pages, moving faster and faster. His face grew pale. A ritual, he said. To unmake the shadow. Not bind it. Not transfer it. Unmake it. Permanently.

Far from Vesper City's glittering towers. A metal door slowly opened. A hidden room. A forgotten place. Dust floated through the darkness. A man stepped inside. Without hesitation, he approached an old steel safe. The lock clicked. Then opened. Inside sat a worn black book. Old. Aged. Covered in years of dust. The Black Ledger. The man picked it up carefully. Opened the first page. And smiled. Because one name appeared again. And again. And again. Written throughout countless entries. One name connected everything.

“You came here for a story, and instead, you found a sexy werewolf soap opera. Good job.” I glanced down at the old book I’d found—the one filled with legends and dark tales of Blackthorn Ridge. It was still lying open on the table, the pages worn and yellowed with age. My eyes skimmed over the words, searching for something I might have missed, but the stories were all the same: packs of wolves, rituals, blood magic. All things that felt a little too close to what Lucian had warned me about.

Ancient tomes, black sealed ledgers, scrolls bound in silks the color of dried blood, enough dangerous magic to get them both executed in a dozen kingdoms, spilled across the map. I arched a brow. “Please tell me you didn’t get caught.” Tarin’s smirk widened. “Please. We’re ghosts. Besides, the Restricted Archives barely noticed we were there.” Thessaly snorted. “A librarian noticed.” “Barely,” Tarin said with a wave. I set my tea aside and pulled the nearest tome toward me. Black Court: Lineage and Rise. The cover alone radiated old, foul magic, the kind that whispered if you listened too long. “How much of their shit did you take?”

Despite my efforts, I hadn't found anything that shed more light on the legend of the white wolf. Just as I was about to give up, a black book caught my eye. It was tucked away on a high shelf, looking like it hadn't been touched in a hundred years. Its cover was worn and faded, giving it an aura of ancient wisdom. My curiosity piqued, I carefully pulled it down and opened it. The pages inside were yellowed with age, and the handwriting was elegant yet archaic. As I began to read, I realized that this book was a comprehensive history of the white wolf lineage. It detailed the origins, the prophecies, and the significant events that had shaped their destiny.

‘Blue Thunder, ‘We urgently need your help to stop The Rogue Paladin in his madness. German Elder Pratz has just been found dead. Please destroy him before he kills another elder. ‘May the gods and goddesses be with you, ‘Elder Rolland.’

Sorens voice was full with scorn as he said his words and I felt angry. When he came at me again, i tried blocking him but he just disarmed me with a flick of his wrist. “You see what I mean.” Sorens said. Let me in. The entity raged at the back of my mind. “Gladly.” I tell him and when Sorens look turned to confusion, I answered him. “I don’t need a weapon to kill you.” And then a black orb came out of my hand. Sorens Pov Fuck this. I never expected this to happen. Kastav was a magician? Nobody knew about this. I found myself ducking orbs of darkness lobbied my way, this just proves that I am ill prepared for today.

"There's a festival that takes months of preparation when you go to Silvenia, it’s called White Day. Since everyone is invited, designers from Silvenia might come and take your measurements for your suits and gowns. You can choose your own personal designers but I doubt no one knows Silvenian fashion better than Silvenian designers. People can dance over a frozen lake, don't worry about falling because it's been frozen for years that no one even knows what it looks like when the ice is all thawed. There's a legend that if a wolf howls while you're dancing on the frozen lake, it means that good things await you and your dancing partner so most people take the chance to dance with a loved one