Novel & Cerita The Lost Tomb Books

I turned to him, my chest tightening. “Kieran, please,” I whispered. “You have to believe me.” His jaw clenched. For a long, painful moment, he said nothing. Then, finally— “Take Selina to the dungeons.” My world shattered. Before I could react, strong arms grabbed me from behind. No. No, no, no. I thrashed, panic surging through me. “Kieran! You’re making a mistake!” But his expression was cold. Unmoving. And Lilith? She was smiling. Because she had won. For now. But this wasn’t over.

The tunnel shook. Lena barely managed to keep her footing as she sprinted after Cassian, the book clutched to her chest. The air was thick with dust, the scent of ancient stone splitting apart filling her lungs. Behind them, something rumbled. Moving. Not just the collapse of the chamber—something else. Something alive. Dorian cursed as a chunk of the ceiling cracked and fell, missing him by inches. “This is exactly why we don’t touch cursed books in haunted tombs!”

At the heart of the catacombs stood a crypt—a pedestal surrounded by moonstone statues of every Luna who had come before me. But one statue had been defaced. Shattered. Her name plate read: “Seren Vale. The Lost One.” “That’s her,” I breathed. “The girl.” Lucan knelt beside the broken stone, studying the script. “She was buried alive,” he said, voice grim. “Not for treason. For protection.” Kael’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of legacy hides its heirs in graves?” Mine, apparently. I stepped closer to the pedestal. A book rested atop it. Bound in black leather. Cold to the touch.

Vaelspire Keep, The Forbidden Vault The Vault doors groaned open, revealing shelves lined with tomes bound in skin and bone. All the ancient and forbidden books of the old were stored and recorded there. Books with knowledge too ancient, too powerful, and useful to their enemies were stored here. Alaric stepped inside, torch in hand, his eyes scanning until they found the one he needed. It read, Bloodborne Bonds: Curses, Hybrids, and Abominations. He flipped through the pages, stopping when he saw an illustration that made his heart freeze.

BECCA’S POV The concrete was freezing, but in my head, I was running through a field of fire. I was back at the university gate, but everyone was holding funeral candles. I turned to run, but my feet were stuck in a thick, black sludge that smelled of filth and old blood. "You can't run from the Loom, Rebecca!"

Maybe I'll add 2 3 bonus chapters later on. I love you all so much! I will come back with new story soon and I hope you'll give that story your love too.. And also I have started with another book called as "Songs and poem" please check it out and lemme know. Bye-bye ,love you all!❤

Grimness flittered in Zain's deep amber eyes and his experssion tightened a bit . The high priest however , paid no heed to him and left with a swift stride, leaving Zain to bobble behind him in his wake . " But its impossible , that - " he lowered his voice conspiratorly " the book of tenebris , its - its lost isn't it ?" " Is it ?" Boarding the carriage said the high priest in light amusement

Terribly wrong. "He's changed," Siron whispered, more to himself. "Since the tomb... he's fighting something inside him." Kit took a deep breath. "You said your mother told you to look for records. We brought this book." He produced a thick book he had managed to grab from the shelf before fleeing. Its cover was worn brown, inscribed with Gothic letters: Die Verlorenen Chroniken von Aethelford (The Lost Chronicles of Aethelford). The Self-Falling Book. When the hands chased them, this book had slid from the high shelf and fallen right in front of Siron's feet, as if pointing to itself.

She couldn’t even notice it as she sobbed on his chest. The walls of the derelict building then melted slowly, its fragments flying into nothingness, never to be seen again. Now, these pieces were replaced by a thick marble post, emerging from the grasses sprouting out of the ground, bringing small fireflies with it, surrounding Z, mourning along with her. The bunk of stone from where they lay smoothened, straightened, forming a soft foam. “He can’t be helped,” said a raspy voice, so deep, so emotionless. “His life’s already ebbing away, his soul wounded by his stupidity.”

Her face changed. “No.” The ground split beneath the river. A staircase appeared, descending into darkness. Tall stone wolves lined both sides. Their faces had been broken away. Barnacles clung to their armour. White coral twisted through empty eye sockets. A cold wind rose from below. It smelled of old salt and sealed earth. The first king moved toward the opening. Grandmother lifted the Tide Crown. “Do not let him reach the tombs.” Raiken looked at her. “What tombs?” She hesitated.