Tangled Web Book Novels & Stories

Her aunt gives her a small smile and nods, Celine finds the bookmark and opens to the page. The woven bookmark has a faded blue tassel and was made of woven threads depicting wolves running in a forest, at the bottom of the bookmark was an old wolf’s tooth with a hole drilled through to be able to tie it onto the bookmark. She puts it to one side to look at the page it had been marking. It looked much like many of the others she had seen flipping through. But its words had her feeling like her world was slipping through her fingers and she was unable to do anything to stop it.

The unicorn had buried its horn into a tree and was backing its ass onto the cock of the howling wolf behind it. "Werewolf porn, this shit is funny." Lowering the book, he saw that Tink's eyes had gone from innocent to predatory. Her tail twitched back and forth, and one of her hands had slid beneath her skirt, her fingers doing lazy circles beneath the thin fabric of her dress. He dropped the book, the pages flipping open to an image of a peasant with her arms tied behind her back getting spit-roasted by a pair of werewolves.

"Grace... don't. Let me fade. Don't... don't become the cage." I looked at the ring on my finger. I looked at Julian and Florence, the only ordinary things left in the world. And then I looked at the man who had broken himself a dozen times just to see me smile. I reached out and took the book. The discharge was not white light or violet static. It was a silence so absolute it felt like the end of the world. The "True Weave" didn't just integrate; it consumed. I felt the God in the Mountain rush into my veins, the cold, calculated logic of a thousand servers mapping my heart.

I hugged the her immediately “You came,” I whispered. “You know I would.” She answered. And in her hands, wrapped carefully was the book. She unwrapped it and my breath caught. My mother didn’t speak, she just simply let the cloth fall away. The air charged more. The pressure could be felt. Kael had a horrified face staring at the book. It was entwined in vines— Blood vines. The raw power from the book pressed against my skin, my lungs, my bones—everywhere.

The scent of warm bread and honeyed root filled the air, and he brought it to me on a wooden tray. “You’re not hunting today?” I asked, surprised. He shook his head with a soft smile. “Not leaving your side.” I smiled gratefully and took a bite, but before I could even swallow, a strange humming filled the air, a low vibration, faint but growing. My gaze shifted across the room until it landed on the Living Book. It was trembling, glowing slightly along its spine, as if stirred by something beyond our realm. Zevarion and I exchanged a glance. My pulse quickened. I reached out slowly, hesitating before my fingers touched the cover. The moment I opened it, ink poured across the page like spill

he said, running his hand over the pages of another book. Coral and I both shivered. A wolf with magic? I couldn’t process that. That book had caught my eye the first night I was here, but I hadn’t gotten it down. It had a dark red almost velvet like texture. We both had our gazes fixed on it. On the page there was a little boy. Suddenly Tobias took my hand and began to speak in Greek.

I slammed the charm into it and exhaled every name for love I had. Tristan’s hands over mine, steadying. Osiris’s laugh in a storm. Lefu’s quiet words when no one else was listening. Balor’s weight against my back when we slept like two halves of one shield. A nursery I hadn’t seen yet, four heartbeats I hadn’t heard. I poured it into the paper and the silver, into the ward, into the idea that we were stronger together than anything that wanted us alone. The web seized. It went rigid under my palm, brittle as frost. Then it cracked—hairlines first, then fractures running in starbursts. Light bled out, green to white to nothing.

They took the directions of travellers who had sailed towards Tribute but returned with failure, asking around to compile enough information on travelling to Tribute, before embarking on the actual journey. Roc Chadwick knew clearly that they might not make it to Tribute, or that they might not survive the trip, but for the sake of freedom and his sworn brother, he courageously ploughed ahead. He hadn’t even expected the expedition to be smooth. But when they woke up the next morning after sailing off the continent to what they believed to be the ‘edge of the world’, unexpectedly, they ended up in a bizarre tunnel. The entire journey was so mystical that it was indescribable. All he could sa