Stolen Tongues Book Novels & Stories

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. The silence in the compendium pressed harder now. It wasn’t the quiet of emptiness. It was the kind that listened. The kind that waited. My fingers hovered over the page again. *Breaking the Curse.* The words felt heavier this time. Because now I knew. It wasn’t just incomplete. It had been stolen. My pulse quickened at the thought. Someone had been here. Someone who knew exactly what this book held. Someone who knew exactly what to take. And more importantly—

Rena - still concealed - ran towards the man, dagger ready. The man stopped and lifted the tip of the arrow to his tongue. Rena made a choking sound when she saw the man's tongue. He has a forked tongue like that of a snake; its surface was full of yellowish acidic liquid; poisonous and unforgiving. The man licked the arrow and the tip boiled in the acidic drool. With his tongue still out, Rena appeared in front of him and sliced off his tongue. Surprised, the man dropped to his knees along with his sliced tongue. He dropped the arrow to the ground and the grasses around it withered and died. The man cried, covering his bloody mouth with his fingers. Rena picked the arrow on the ground and s

Fynn told her how I found the book and that we were hoping she could help and her eyes grew wide when he handed it to her. “This is the original grimoire!” She exclaimed as her hands slipped over the covers. She told us how she had only seen images of it, but that it disappeared hundreds of years ago. It was the book of spells of the very first witch and contained things people couldn’t even dream of! The tension in the room was so thick as she paged through the book that I had a hard time breathing. We were all waiting for her to tell us that she had found the unlinking spell! Fynn showed her the page and she told us that it was the language of the firsts. The very first magical people hid

I thought that after this incident, he might finally learn his lesson and stop pulling this kind of stunt. Unexpectedly, another delivery showed up outside my door that evening. I took it downstairs and tossed it into the trash along with the garbage from my apartment. When I came back upstairs, Derek was once again standing outside my door arguing with a delivery driver. The moment he saw me, he pointed a finger in my direction. "Was it you who stole my food? You pathetic freeloader. I caught you once at lunchtime, and now you've got the nerve to steal it again tonight?"

I couldn’t see her because she was sitting two chairs in front of me. “Ik heb niets gedaan! Dit was papa, niet ik! [ I didn’t do anything, dad did, not me.]” A familar voice said. So Alpha Storm was here too. It sounded fucking weird. What were those noises they made? Ggggg? It sounded like they were clearing their throats. What language was that? “Je kon hem stoppen. Dat arme meisje. [You could have stopped him. That poor girl.]” The woman said.

Leila said. “You said that you read the book even without being taught the language but as far as I know, that can only happen to that ancestor's descendants. Now my question is, are you part of our family and we have never heard of you?” Elana said. “You also said that your adoptive parents opened the book and tried to read it but failed in doing so due to the unknown language. You had also opened the book when you were small,” Marcus said. “And now, you just said that the book was stolen last week making it the assumption that the person who stole the book knew the language, he opened it, and read it before proceeding to kidnapping the witch,” Leila.

It was the guard’s report from the dungeon. The report that said Thalia Thorne had been speaking the first tongue in her sleep. The ancient, forbidden language that no ordinary twenty-two-year-old girl from a random pack should even know existed. My hand subconsciously moved up, my fingers brushing against my chest through the fabric of my coat to make sure the paper was still there. Rowan stopped talking mid-sentence. The old elder blinked his cloudy eyes, staring straight down the table at me. The entire room suddenly went dead silent.

In the darkness of the screen, I saw my reflection—blurred, tired, and nothing like the person I used to be. … At breakfast the next morning, Andrew came over with a bowl of clam chowder, wearing a practiced smile. "Ed, try this. It's really good." "No, thanks." I turned him down gently. However, he pushed it toward me anyway. Suddenly, his foot slipped, sending the scalding chowder spilling all over my thigh as the bowl shattered across the floor. A patch of angry red instantly bloomed on my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

I don't want to think about Adam, or the last kiss that we had shared. Without much ado, I retrieved the magic books I had stolen from the school's library from my bag. I needed something that wouldn't remind me of Adam. With a weary sigh, I began to read, struggling to decipher the unfamiliar language that danced across the pages. What language was this? I wondered, pausing just at the fifth page. I needed a magic dictionary, if there was anything like that. However, I continued skimming, especially as I saw the illustration of a beast on one of the pages.

I ditched the pickaxe, looking for anything else to use, but in my frenzy, I stumbled and ended up on the floor. The footsteps behind me were getting louder. A cold sweat drenched my back as I curled up, cornered and powerless. The pitch-black cellar had me spouting anything that came to mind, a last-ditch plea. "Please, mister, have mercy! I can pay you—ten, twenty thousand dollars. Just let me go, and I'll owe you big time, even in my next life!" "You've been slaving away for twenty years already, isn't that enough? You want to keep it up in your next life too?"