Novel & Cerita Three Asterisks In Books

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My own children, and my fiance. I kept pacing between the shelves, my eyes scanned every title and books. There had to be another way. There had to be something, anything that didn’t involve… him. And then, tucked away in a dark corner behind a pile of tattered scrolls, I found it. A small, black leather-bound book with crimson stitching, worn with age. “The Lost Remedies of Asterfell.” My pulse jumped. This was different. I opened it carefully, the pages brittle beneath my fingers. Dust filled the air, making me cough, but I barely noticed. My eyes darted over the faded, nearly illegible ink until I found a heading that made my heart skip:

The librarian, a wise old man with spectacles perched on his nose, had greeted them warmly and invited them to explore the dusty shelves filled with ancient tomes. As Scarlett's fingers grazed the spines of the books, a particular leather-bound volume caught her eye. Its title, "The Prophecy of the Shifting Stars," called to her with an inexplicable pull. She plucked it from the shelf and dusted off its cover, revealing faded golden letters etched into the leather. Curiosity burned within Scarlett. She opened the book and began to read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The words flowed like poetry from her lips, resonating deeply within her soul.

Little did I know, the spark was about to become a raging inferno, courtesy of something far beyond the mortal realm. It started on a rainy Friday night. I’d come home exhausted from a long week, my blouse clinging to my skin from the downpour outside. I kicked off my heels, letting them thud against the hardwood floor, and poured myself a glass of merlot. The apartment felt emptier than usual; my last girlfriend had left months ago, citing my “workaholic tendencies” as the reason. Truth be told, I missed the warmth of a body next to mine, the soft curves and whispered promises in the dark. To distract myself, I rummaged through the old box of junk in my closet— relics from my rebellious pha

yes, I talk to myself on occasion. I turn the book in hand to find a small metal spike lashed to the back cover with fraying laces of claret suede. It must be silver, that would explain the slight burning sensation fading from my finger tips. Dark lines in the tarnished metal, look like they could have been engraved words at some point in the past. ‘I wonder what delights the other two hold?’ Caleb muses sarcastically. I eye the two remaining books, one remarkably slender, the other easily twice the breadth of either of its predecessors.

Stamped into the cover was a symbol: an eye inside a triangle, surrounded by curling, intricate lines that almost seemed alive. “What is this?” Leila asked, keeping her voice steady. Christina gave her a look that said she was either testing her or trying to decide how much to say. “This,” she said at last, “is why you’ve been dodging mustard jackets and cleaning up after dead archaeologists.” Leila’s heart skipped a beat. She sat down, sliding the book toward her. It was heavier than it looked, its weight a promise of bad news. “Oh my! Explain,” she said, flipping it open.

Lookin' good girl! Instantaneously, a certain book caught my interest in Cryx's desk. My heart fluttered and my eyes twinkled, I grabbed the book and flipped some of its pages. Oh my! It's my Aunt's book! It was entitled, 'Agent Asteria', which was a mystery thriller. When it was first released last year, the bookstores had it sold out on the first day because of how much of a hit it was to the public, it got an outstanding review from the Times and even won awards internationally. Not to mention it's my favorite book of hers. It certainly deserves the title of 'best'.

Nothing major, just something to drive him the teeniest bit crazy. Like how she leaves books laying on the coffee table, opened and face down to mark her place, rather than using the bookmark that is tucked in between the last few pages for safe keeping. He sees the multicolored tassel hanging down and yet she persists in laying the book down to mark her place, messing with the spine of the book. And to make matters worse, all of her books are wrapped up in those colorful book covers that young school girls put on their textbooks to make them feel prettier. He can imagine that she has the holographic notebook and the scented glitter pens to match.

I looked up to find a triumphant smile on Shayla's face — she really was enjoying this to the fullest. As for A9, F7, #3 — my brain scrambled to untangle its meaning. It was a scavenger hunt, so the clue likely led to a specific book. There was no particular arrangement pattern to the books either. Oomf. This was a huge turnpike. I scanned the bookcases desperately, checking to see if I knew any of the books and—

“Quit this bullshit and go sit for dinner!“ She angrily turned off the television. “Why did you do that? Mrs. Nora Williams was about to announce the date for the pick.“ I sluggishly stood from the floor with a huge frown on my face. “You mean the hideous, wicked witch of the west?“ Megan retorted with a scoff. “Mrs. Tera Greygott is the wicked witch of the west. I'm talking about Mrs. Nora Williams.“ I explained, slapping off a peck of dust on my faded gown. “All rich folks are wicked witches of the west, be it Williams or Greygott. Now go sit!“ She fired back, walking past me with angry steps. “No offense, but I think you're the only one with that mindset. Every other person around here se