The Spellbook.

A Story by Fictionstorie

Another short story, I'm going to write a few more, then pile them in a book, when I can.

James stood looming over the charred wooden chest, His hands gripping tightly on the handle. He needed to know what was inside it, Even if it was nothing. James gave one last desperate tug, and to his unimaginable surprise, the chest swung open.

Inside the chest was a small leather-bound book. "All this for nothing." James muttered as he knelt down and picked it up. The book had the all-too familiar smell of dampened pages, there was nothing special in particular that came from the cover.

Out of curiosity James turned the page, There was no title, just an faded etch that resembled a tree. James flipped to the next page, surprised by the amount of words fitted into a book that could easily fit in his pocket. He sat down and began to read.

While the letters were English, none of the words made no sense. Isinar Vuun Zikrakthem. James read the first three words out loud, and then immediately collapsed, It was as if his mind was intruded. Pictures of huge stone temples, Men in green robes begging for mercy in front of an shadowy figure. Entire villages being burnt to a crisp, and then the book, being placed inside the chest. Suddenly, it all made sense, His mind clicked, and he realized the potential of the book. it was no longer an ordinary book, but a spell book, a remainder of a once great kingdom, destroyed and ripped apart by Hatred and Fear, By Humanity itself.

From that day On, James was no Longer James.