Novels by Queen of tales

The palace halls had never felt so cold.Not because of winter, nor absence of flame—but because Seraphina had returned without the fire that had once defined her. She walked through the gilded corridors like a shadow of herself, her steps slow, deliberate. No one dared speak. No one dared meet her eyes.The Flameborn Queen was flameborn no longer.And yet… she had never felt more powerful.Eveline waited by the war chamber doors, her face unreadable. “You shouldn’t be walking this soon.”“I’m not injured,” Seraphina replied.“Not physically,” Eveline said.They stood in silence for a moment before Seraphina opened the doors herself.Inside, the council had already gathered—lords, mages, emissaries. They looked up in unison when she entered. Expectation and fear passed like a wave.She took her seat at the head of the table.Lucien leaned forward first. “We’ve had reports from the eastern front. The ember cultists are retreating. Their connection to the Gate... it’s gone.”Seraphina n

The wind howled like a wounded god.As Seraphina and her companions crossed into the northern borders of the kingdom, the world changed. The sky turned iron-gray, the trees skeletal, and the earth beneath their horses cracked with frost even though it was spring. This was no ordinary terrain.This was cursed land.This was the Shard Vale.“The last time anyone came this far north,” Eveline muttered, pulling her cloak tighter, “they never returned.”Seraphina didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The deeper they traveled, the more her ring burned against her skin, and the gauntlet pulsed faintly like it recognized something buried in the very bones of this land.Lucien rode ahead, his eyes scanning the woods. “The silence here isn’t natural.”“No,” Dante said from behind her, his voice quiet. “It’s the kind of silence that listens.”Seraphina nodded. “Because the Vale is alive.”And it was.---By nightfall, they reached the edge of the frozen forest where the old stone stood—a half-buried mono

The ash had barely settled over the battlefield when the rumors began.Kaelith was dead. The rebellion shattered. The Flameborn Queen had stood against darkness and burned it away. But power, Seraphina knew, was a fragile thing. Even fire could flicker if starved.She stood at the palace balcony as dawn broke over the capital. Below, the people stirred with cautious hope. In the far distance, the Ash Valleys still smoldered—remnants of a war won in blood, not peace.“I crowned myself in light,” Seraphina whispered. “But I rule in the shadow of what comes next.”Behind her, Dante approached, his steps soft but deliberate. He didn’t speak at first, only placed a hand on the small of her back. It grounded her.“They’ll expect something today,” he said.“They always do.”“And you’ll give it to them.”“Not what they think.” She turned to him. “The rebellion’s not over, Dante. We ended the figurehead. Not the belief.”His jaw tightened. “Then what’s the plan?”She stared toward the Ashline.

The crown felt heavier than Seraphina expected. Not in weight, but in memory. Forged from the melted remnants of her mother’s circlet, fused with silver and quiet flame, it was more than a symbol. It was a warning. A vow. A scar she chose to wear in plain sight. She stood in the Hall of Binding, the flame-marked banners of the allied houses draped behind her. Nobles and soldiers filled the chamber. The silence was reverent. Waiting. She stepped forward, lifting the crown into the light. “I did not come here to rule,” Seraphina said, her voice steady. “But to end what was broken. To bind what was shattered.” Murmurs swept the room. “I wear this not as a tyrant. Not as a saint. But as a shield.” She placed the crown on her head. The flames in the sconces flared. The people bowed. And the age of the Flameborn began. --- The following weeks moved like war hidden in ceremony. Letters from distant houses arrived daily—some offering allegiance, others thinly veile

The silence after the cheering was the loudest sound Seraphina had ever heard. Back in the high halls of the palace, the echo of the people’s roar still lingered, but so did the weight of it. Her victory in Bael had sealed more than a ritual. It had sealed her place. In their hearts. And in their fears. She stood before a fire in the war room, her arms crossed, gaze fixed on the dancing flames. The light made her gauntlet gleam like polished steel—but it also cast flickers of shadow that seemed alive. Behind her, Eveline entered, a scroll in her hand. “Another letter from the House of Miraz,” she said, voice clipped. Seraphina didn’t turn. “Let me guess. Another insult disguised as an offer.” “They’re calling a tribunal.” Seraphina turned, brows rising. “A tribunal?” “To question your right to rule. They’re calling it ‘a council of balance.’ They want to strip you of authority over the flame.” “Cowards,” Lucien growled, appearing in the doorway. “They’d rather hi

Seraphina could still feel it—breathing beneath the earth, humming in the back of her skull like a second heartbeat. Every time she blinked, she saw flashes—visions that didn’t belong to her. Flames dancing in spirals. Eyes watching from beyond.But worst of all was the whisper.Take your place.She stood alone in the high tower, the gauntlet on her right arm pulsing with residual flame. Since returning from the Gate, nothing felt normal. Even the wind smelled sharper, like it carried secrets. She no longer felt like a woman walking through stone halls—but something deeper. Something ancient.Behind her, Dante entered without knocking.“You haven’t come down in hours.”“I’m not ready to face them.”“They're your people now.”“That’s the problem,” she said, finally turning to meet his gaze. “They expect a queen. But what I brought back with me… it’s not royalty. It’s ruin.”He approached slowly, eyes locked to hers. “What you brought back is strength. And they’ll follow it.”“They’ll f