The Hollow Book Jessica Verday Novels & Stories

Another grab for the book and some food, then I crossed my legs and opened my reading books while I ate my sandwich heartily. "Are you reading that ham again?" I felt Wynn's gaze more than I saw him. "It can't be that interesting." But she could only say that because she didn't read anything but mindless teen magazines. "I am learning. Give it a try, it's good for your future. "

Follow, vote, comment and share... Lyka's P.O.V I didn't go to sleep the whole night as I just couldn't. The nightmares will return so I decided to go in the library. I have been seated for over five hours in the damn library with nothing to eat or drink as I read the old books and papers with a smell that makes me want to puke. My eyes have not dared to close on me as I read the thirtieth book. I have not found any useful information that can locate the blood moonstone and finish this once and for all.

My wolf growled often, pacing and restless. As soon as the meeting was over, Cassian and Denric left to deal with business at their packs, and I headed straight for the library. We weren’t going to leave Jessa alone when town sentiment was rising against her. When I arrived, she was with Ruby and Mina, gathered around a book and giggling. “So that’s really accurate?” Ruby was asking. “They can all… you know, be inside of you at once?” “It’s the most amazing feeling,” Jessa said, her cheeks flushed. “Honestly. I didn’t think it was possible when I was just reading but—”

She shoved it back under the mattress, only to notice the edge of the stack sticking out farther than before. Someone had already read it. Her heart stopped. The phone rang. Olivia answered, breathless. Jessica’s calm voice poured through the line like poisoned honey. “You’re a clever writer, Olivia. But every author should remember, stories can kill.” Olivia’s knees buckled. “How did you,” Jessica laughed, low and sweet. “Your book is a mirror, darling. And I’ve been staring at you for a long, long time. Years before Ethan. Years before you even knew who I was.”

A vast heartbeat echoed beneath our feet. “The Hollow,” I breathed. “It’s not gone.” She reached for me, but the mark on my chest flared crimson and burned through my veins. My body arched and my pulse was hammering like drums of war. The Hollow’s voice spoke again, but not in my mind this time. It was behind her. She froze, with the blood draining from her face. I saw her mouth open, but no sound came out, because the Hollow’s voice was no longer inside her; it was standing right behind her.

“And I can help you with that.” I looked up at her. “How?” Jessica reached into her bag and pulled out a book, the leather cover is faded and old. “After Yara hid me in the temple, I found this in the High Priestess’s chambers. I took it with me when I ran because I thought it might be important.” She handed it to me and I opened it carefully, seeing pages covered in a handwriting I don’t understand. “What is it?” “It’s your mother’s book” Jessica said. “It covers everything you need to know. Your mother would have used this when she was learning, and it should work for you too since you have her bloodline.”

She was taken to a great chamber lit by ghost-flame, where the Council sat. Twelve thrones. Twelve shadows. Some bore faces — others did not. One wore a crown of thorns that bled. Another was draped entirely in veils, and spoke in riddles to no one. These were the elders of the Hollow — bound by ancient oaths to balance life, death, and the power in between. A woman stepped forward from the council dais. Tall, eyes like obsidian stars. “She is untested,” the woman said. “But the blood sings. We can all feel it.”

she said softly. He didn’t look at her. “Felt what?” “The air. The shadows. Something pulling.” His jaw clenched. He rubbed the back of his neck, as though admitting it would make it real. “It’s nothing. Old nerves. The body remembers what the mind doesn’t.” Zara’s throat closed at that, because he was right—his body remembered. But this was more than memory. “You’re wrong,” she whispered. “It’s still here. The Hollow. It didn’t die. It echoes.”

Time had a strange way of dulling pain, of smoothing over the raw edges of loss, leaving behind only a lingering ache—an emptiness that, though it had no name, was always there, always present, just beneath the surface. In the years since, Lyra had become one of the most renowned Memory Seekers in Elysium. Her reputation had grown far beyond the borders of the city where she once began her journey. People from all corners of the world sought her out, entrusting her with their deepest secrets, their forgotten pasts, and their hidden truths. And Lyra, with her sharp intuition and tireless resolve, always delivered.