Written In Stone Book Novels & Stories

After calling me several times, Ian finally got my attention. He stood on tiptoes, trying to see the book's contents. "What's it about?" "Finance," I replied automatically. I'd grabbed the book randomly and hadn't even looked at it. After standing in one position for over an hour, my legs and neck were stiff. I closed the book and stretched. "Collector's Guide to Jewelry and Precious Stones." Ian read the cover as I closed it. I: ...

“Were you looking for me?” “Yeah. For like six hours.” Cass looked concerned and got closer to me. “Are you sure you’re okay? And why are you holding a stone?” “What?” I looked down at the book in my hands and back to Cass, who was also looking at the book in my hand. “This?” I waved it around, and she nodded. “Yes…the black stone in your hand.” Cass pointed at the book and, even though I was confused, I stammered out an answer.

We stood in the snow, sharing another kiss. *THE END* __Finally, I'm done with "Stone-Hearted." Thank God! Just kidding, you wouldn't end it like that, Richard, right? Sit tight and enjoy.__ *2 MONTHS LATER* Anika's P.O.V Things had been going smoothly for me. I finally saw the real Richard and moved on with my life. I didn't confront him or whatever, I just broke up with him over the phone and let him know that I had already figured out his tactics.

It bounced once on the pedestal… then rolled toward the edge. I lunged, blood butterflies cushioning my fall, and caught it midair. The moment my fingers touched it, my skin burned. A wave of darkness shot up my arm and into my spine, filling my veins with something... ancient. Something raw. I screamed, but I didn’t let go. I felt memories not mine—rituals in the Underworld, the agony of creation, the corruption of kings. The Stone was not just a power source. It was a prison. A core of pure dark magic sealed away for millennia.

"The Crown binds. The Stone seals. The Blood remembers." She swallowed. “The Crown.” Killian’s gaze sharpened. “You saw it in the ruins?” Lyra nodded, rubbing her arms as she recalled the way the metal had hummed beneath her fingertips, as if it recognized her. Kane closed the book, sitting back in his chair. “If the Grand Stone is a prison, then the Crown must have been used to lock it.” Killian exhaled. “That means it was meant for the First King alone.” Silence fell over them.

A book sealed by blood, only to be opened by the heir who had both fire and forgiveness. “You must go alone,” the priest said. “Only one may enter the Vault.” Jian stepped forward. “She’s not going without me.” Chaewon touched his hand. “This is mine.” He held her gaze and nodded once. The door hissed open. Inside, the vault pulsed like a heartbeat. And there it was, on a pedestal of scorched stone…a book bound in dark leather, etched with fire-glyphs that moved like liquid under her gaze. As she stepped forward, her hand brushed the surface—and the book opened on its own.

Neah asks. "Concentrated Lycan life force. Solidified over millennia. It forms in places where Lycan blood was spilled in great quantities. During battles. Rituals. Deaths." Aldara reaches out but doesn't touch it. "This much lunar stone represents hundreds of Lycan lives." The room goes quiet. I move to the shelves. Carefully unwrap one of the cloth bundles. Inside is a book. Hand-bound. Pages made from something that isn't quite paper. The text is in the same ancient script as the door.

Griffin said. We followed him down until we reached a dark bunker under the library. It had a lot of old bookshelves. Griffin then walked up to a drawer, pulling a bunch of papers out of it and laying them down on the table. It was like a translation similar to what was carved on the rock, symbols with letters written under them in alphabetical order. Griffin slowly traced the carvings on the stone, his fingers trembling. “This isn’t just ancient writing. It’s a binding incantation, vampire in origin.”

Names filled the circle like water, then like a wall. Silas’s attention never blinked. He had learned early how not to blink when someone else’s pain asked to be counted. “Enough anecdotes,” he said—pleasant as a church bell in a city that hates sermons. “Stone does not care for stories.” “Stone,” Maera said, finally lifting her eyes to him, “is stories that outlived their furniture.” Lucien’s hand moved from the ordinary floor to the groove’s blunt lip. The cut in the stone was old; his fingers found places where chisels had misstepped and been forgiven. The house seemed to lean closer with its rafters.

I replied. “Thank God!” Imran said. “Why are you so dull then? What did Mr.Stone say?” Rashi asked. “Mr.Stone didn’t say anything, just apologized for the ball thing. He said that he actually thought my resignation was a ball deal and talked like that. Mr.Stone said he didn’t remember about the date at all.” I replied. “Wait! You are referring him as ‘Mr.Stone’.” Rani said. “Yeah! That is his name right.” I said casually.