Song Of Achilles Book Covers Novels & Stories

“Isn’t fate just so damn cute?” Lyka sighed, “You are powerful, each of you and you need to discover it. To expand it.” “But enough to defeat him?” Art snickered. “Yes, enough to destroy him. We will talk about it later. Before that you can read this book.” Shalom handed them a thick, leather bound book. In the cover, was a handwritten word. Bloodsongs. In wild red. ____

The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71. I found the second shelf on the case and scanned for my next book. Book thirteen had a cover of deep purple. I frowned at the woman looking up at me, scanning over her tangled fiery curls, the cinnamon freckles across her nose, and the way her emerald eyes seemed to twinkle at me from the cover. Her hair and eyes were the only familiar thing about her. My face was a bit rounder than hers, and definitely held a bit more baby fat. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full, conventionally beautiful in a wild sort of way. I felt that twinge of guilt as I looked down at the cover. “Sasha Burnette, Game 51.”

The book was older than anything Olivia had ever seen, its cover a deep shade of maroon, almost dark enough to be black, with intricate golden symbols etched into the surface. When her fingers brushed the pages, she felt the pulse of magic flow through her. It was as if the book itself recognized her touch—knew that she was the one meant to uncover its secrets.

I opened it and found myself entering a smaller version of the library downstairs. There was no swirling staircase going up, up, up, rather walls full of books, some of which were only accessible via the sliding ladder off to the side. With my stomach full and heart heavy, I waltzed over to one of the shelves and scanned them, intending to pick a book at random. One in particular drew my eye. The cover was made of dark leather, embossed with a swirling gold font that was a bit hard to read. Tendrils of flame, interwoven with threads of shadow, danced up the spine and around the back.

The book falls with a thud onto the bed frame. It glows brightly in the sunlight and I do not dare touch it. Its leather bound cover is worn and tattered. It looks to be older than the kingdom itself. Strange lettering is on the front of the book. Symbols from a language that I do not recognize. My fingers itch to touch the cover of the book. Reaching out a finger I lay it gently on the cover of the book. The symbols on the cover shift and change into words that I can understand. "Prophecies of the Fae."

I whispered. I stepped closer, the herb’s sting already making my skin prickle even through the cloak. My hand shook as I pulled the book down. The cloth burned my palm, but I didn’t let go. “Shit,” I hissed, clenching my teeth against the pain. I ripped the cloth off, throwing it aside. The sting didn’t stop, but when I looked down, my heart stopped altogether. The leather cover was old. Dark. Stained. And burned into it was one word.

Each one needed to be categorized, filed, and cross-referenced—tedious work, but it kept my mind busy. As I sorted through a particularly old pile, my fingers brushed against something different—a heavy book with faded lettering on its spine. The leather binding was cracked and worn, small pieces flaking off under my touch. Curious, I pulled it from the stack. Golden script decorated the cover in an ancient language I recognized from my council training: Bloodlines and Sacred Artifacts of the Wolf Packs. I blew dust off the cover, shaking loose specks that glittered in the day’s bright rays. The book looked centuries old, its pages yellowed and brittle with age.

My fingers examined the fine-textured white substance. It smelled of old perfume and...gasoline? The odd scent only boggled me more. "What are you?" I whispered. Was it just some powdered chemical to keep the bugs out? Or something else entirely? ◇ "Vampirar et Dhampirica" The gothic-styled calligraphy printed in gold ink intrigued me as I studied the brownish, tattered cover. It was a vintage-looking book Miles currently engrossed himself in as he sat next to me.

I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain, how weird. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others a bit more newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through the pages and put it back on the shelf, a little too intense for some early morning reading. I picked up another one and read the cover, ‘The Garden of Eden’ by Ernest Hemingway. Not what I expected from a teenage werewolf soon-to-be-Alpha. I put it back and my eyes fell on a really older looking book. I pulled it out and it was big and very heavy. It looked

It had a black thick leather cover and a golden seal on its top. “The Crow.” Lelia said, and a book with a bright red cover appeared in her palms. She turned to a page where the history and image of the crow was shown. Janeka got her mind back to why they were here and what they were going to defeat. “I see your mind is caught up with the black book.” Lelia said, chewing her lips. “That's what we want, isn't it?” Janeka said.