Voldemort Book Design Novels & Stories

The Secrets of the Tome Tension was high as Kael and Zara gathered close to the tower's base, the first dim rays of dawn piercing the dense fog. Zara lay on the chilly ground with the old book in her arms, as Kael stood guard, his blade still in hand. The warmth of the crystal, which had faded to a gentle light, served as a continual reminder of its existence. Zara traced the elaborate designs engraved on the leather as she brushed her fingers over the book's faded cover. Every design appeared to have a slight pulse, as though it were living. She whispered, "This book feels like it's breathing."

He shrugged, his own concentration stuck on the book. He was curious as well as I was. Finally, I gave the book a long scrutinizing look, turning it this way and that all the while buying Neilla time. It was a book alright, one without a way to view its content. It had a vial like structure fixed into the hard cover on the front. In that vial was blood slushing as I moved the book about. It was off-putting in every way including the foul odor emanating from it. I flicked at the cover with my middle finger, raising my eyes in surprise when Sapphira flinched.

The air in the Serrated Scroll library was thick with the scent of old leather, slowly curing vellum, and the low, ozone-like hum of dormant magic. Towering shelves carved from obsidian and bone stretched into a gloom that even demonic eyes struggled to pierce, each one groaning under the weight of knowledge too dangerous for any other realm.

It swung inward with a groan. Inside was dark, the air heavily scented with burned wax, leather, and the mustiness of great age and dampness. The stained glass windows faced her left and took the shape of a flower petal, somewhat like a rose. Each of the petals contained a colored-glass of the vital body parts of a wolf. The fang. The fur. The paw. What little light there was at this early hour filtered little light through that window and took on the colors of old wine, casting long shadows over the long rows of books. It was almost twice the size of the book shelf back at the other library in the castle. How insane was that? Savannah’s joy could be compared to one of a child at a candy sto

A very big thick book that was tucked away on a lower shelf caught my eye. It had elaborate catchy designs carved into its surface and its back was strange and hard—almost like stone. Even in this room of wonders it appeared antiquated enigmatic and completely out of place. I was driven by my curiosity which was always my downfall. Reaching for it I took it off the shelf. Its weight was unexpectedly greater than its appearance. It resisted my attempts to open it. Not only was it closed but it was also bound and nearly sealed. Instead of using a lock an organic substance that resembled thin hardened vines or entwined prickly twigs wrapped around the cover and held it closed.

So long that dust had thickly coated it but somehow, it still seemed to be boiling. Picking it up, I approached the doctor and asked him about it. His eyes widened, confirming my suspicion that it was indeed strange. "Where did you find that? I thought I had disposed of it. That is an extract of Voldemort root. It is a poison that kills a human within an hour so, I would advise that you return it. I wouldn't want to be the reason why your master loses a maid." I smiled faintly as I returned to the stall. By the time I returned, the doctor had finished packing and handed the basket to me.

Lord Yong opened the book and started looking for the antidote to break the curse. He continued to turn page after page with a menacing taste of what's to come. The front page of the book was dark and coarse, the pages had turned yellowish. Spells and amendments were written on each page of the book. The pages of the book are said to be made of vellum of animals.

The both of them began walking to the staircase that led up, to the next floor, where Citadel K was. “So what other differences do you think there are?” Harold who had been studying a small-sized blonde who seemed to be crying in a corner turned to look at her. The student had the same stature as Derek, Harold remembered, but Derek had been a Enchanter. A wizard, precisely. There was no way this weeping student was related to Derek. “I didn't hear what you said,” he said, turning back to look at her. “What other differences do you think there are between the pup of an Alpha and a normal wolf?”

But in his hands, a book. Thick. Heavy. Bound in a material that looked like stone and metal fused together. Veins of silver and dark crystal pulsed through it, like it was still alive, breathing. Ancient symbols lined the cover, Veydrin script, sharp and elegant, curling around a single emblem at its center: A fractured star, stitched together by threads of light and shadow. Every one of them stared. Not because it was strange. Not because it was new.

Grand, with a vaulted ceiling arched high, painted with constellations and mythic beasts, towering shelves rising like walls, carved from dark oak and lined with books. “Here.” He pulls out an old book, its cover black and edged in gold. At the center gleams a golden wolf’s head, bared teeth frozen in a snarl. Behind it, a raven spreads its wings wide, poised as if descending from the sky. Grimm opens it. The pages are an old, yellowish color, but intact. “Most of the Raven Wolf King books here are written to sound like fantasy, as if he were just a fairy tale. This one’s the one you want. Depicts date‑to‑date events.”