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Midnight Crown
Last Updated : 2026-02-22
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The city sleeps under his dominion. He stands at the top of his tower, watching the skyline he built on corpses and contracts. A power play gone wrong leaves blood on his hands and a name on his conscience—the woman he was never meant to see again. Below, she moves through the city unseen, carrying evidence that ties him to a crime buried a decade deep. Their collision begins not with love, but exposure. She’s the variable that can end him—or save him from what he’s become.
View MoreChapter 1
Prologue — Sin
Trigger Warning
⚠ This story contains mature themes including violence, coercion, psychological manipulation, and obsessive relationships. Reader discretion advised. ⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ For the one I would have burned the city to find. ⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ “Control is a kind of worship. The moment I touched her, I believed in God.” ⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ Rain clawed the glass tower when the feed cut to static. From the rooftop helipad, the city looked like an open circuit—gold lights pulsing through veins of stormwater, skyscrapers humming with invisible fear. Domenik Laev stood at the edge, coat rippling in the wind, as the voice in his earpiece stuttered: Target extraction failed. Below him, explosions flared, brief as breath. He should have turned away. Instead, he watched the fire eat the street, watched the shadows scatter like ash. “Erase it,” he said. His voice was calm, reverent. In the surveillance control room, his men obeyed—deleting faces, logs, coordinates. Every witness, every frame of existence. Until the camera froze on one image: a woman standing in the rain, looking up. Her eyes met the lens. For an instant, the storm fell silent. “Delete her,” the tech whispered. Domenik leaned closer to the screen. He didn’t blink. “No,” he said. “Leave her.” Lightning split the sky. Behind his reflection in the glass, another face flickered—the dead brother who never stopped watching. Lucianus’s voice, memory or ghost, murmured: You’re breaking the law. Domenik touched the lion ring on his hand. “So let them burn me for it.” He turned from the window. “Find her.” The elevator carried him down into the tower’s heart—the data vault beneath Laev Industries. Servers hummed like a cathedral choir. The Covenant of Silence glowed on the walls in etched gold: The Tongue Is Treason. The King Owns All Names. He began the purge himself. One by one, he wiped every survivor’s record from the system. Faces vanished. Names bled into nothing. But when he reached hers—Eirwen Cayde—his hand hesitated. She shouldn’t exist. Yet her file glowed stubbornly silver, uncorrupted. “Who is she?” he whispered. No answer came but the static hum of the machines. He closed his eyes, listening to the rain pounding the roof far above. The sound became a pulse—his pulse. Lucianus whispered again, closer this time. You spared her. You chose the sin. He deleted the voice. But he couldn’t delete her. In the penthouse, mirrors lined the walls—each one showing him what he used to be. A ruler. A believer. A man untouched. Now he saw the fracture. Her reflection shimmered beside his. “You told me silence was purity,” he said to the ghost. Lucianus smiled in the glass. And yet you listen for her voice. Domenik’s fist shattered the mirror. Blood dripped across the lion sigil, tracing the shape of a crown. Outside, thunder rolled like judgment. He looked down at the red on his hand, then at the storm beyond the window. “She saw me,” he whispered. He smiled once—sharp, sacrilegious. “Now she’s mine.” ⟅━━━━━⟆ ⚜ ⟅━━━━━⟆ If you felt the storm, wait until you meet her. 🌙Latest chapter
Midnight Crown 70 — The Drop
70 — The DropFour in the afternoon.Dom had the distribution architecture mapped across three screens — the northern quarter's communications infrastructure converted, temporarily, into something that would have made Ash's original setup look modest. Caelan had pulled the municipal archive records. Marsel's tunnel network was staged and waiting. Seventeen couriers positioned at relay points across the city, each carrying a sealed package addressed to a recipient who didn't yet know they were about to become the most important journalist or prosecutor in New Eidolon.On the table beside him, the Covenant texts. The Widow's thirty years. Her father's unfinished case.Dom was on his fourth call of the hour when Ash walked in from the corridor and set a printed intercept log on the table without speaking. Dom read it without ending the call, finished the conversation in two sentences, and hung up.He looked at Eirwen."Voss has filed an emergency petition with the Commission," she said.
Last Updated : 2026-02-22Midnight Crown 69 — Morning, Armed
69 — Morning, ArmedShe woke before him.That was new.Dom slept the way he did everything — with complete commitment, the operational mind finally offline, his body taking the rest it had been refusing for days. He was on his back, one arm still across her from the night before, his face in the grey morning light stripped of every layer he maintained for the waking city. Younger. Not soft — he would never be soft — but unguarded in the specific way of sleep, when the performance of sovereignty had nowhere to be.She lay still for a long moment and looked at him.She'd been in this city for months carrying a name like a wound and a mission like a weapon and she'd ended up here — in a room she hadn't known existed three days ago, in a bed with silk sheets Ash had sourced overnight, beside a man who had let go of his composure because she'd asked him to and hadn't apologized for it afterward.She thought about her father. About Lucianus. About the Widow in a grey-stone room setting down
Last Updated : 2026-02-22Midnight Crown 68 — Ash
68 — AshThe room the Widow had chosen was at the back of the building — old Cayde territory, grey stone walls, a table and three chairs positioned with the deliberate geometry of a woman who had thought about this meeting for a long time and had arranged it accordingly.A file sat on the table.Not digital. Paper. Real paper, which in New Eidolon meant something old or something important or both.The Widow stood when they entered. Not deference — positioning. She looked at Dom first, which Eirwen noted, and then at Eirwen with the expression she'd had in the vault, in the Tower corridor, in every moment since the war began where she'd made a decision that protected her daughter over her position. The look Eirwen still couldn't name.Dom stood at the door.Not blocking it. Just present. His eyes moved through the room — the exits, the windows, the Widow's hands — with the automatic thoroughness of a man who hadn't yet decided whether the threat in this room was physical or of another
Last Updated : 2026-02-22Midnight Crown 67 — Three Words
67 — Three WordsShe'd been awake for an hour before he stirred.The cipher wasn't complicated — old Cayde encoding, the kind her father had taught her before the fire, a system built for messages that needed to arrive quietly and be understood quickly. Three words decoded in under a minute. She'd read them, memorized them, set the phone face-down on the nightstand, and spent the next hour looking at the ceiling while Dom slept behind her with his arm across her front and his breathing deep and even and entirely unsuspecting.The three words were: *the fire's truth.*She knew what it meant. The Widow was offering information about the night the Cayde estate burned — the night that had shaped everything, the origin point of all of it. The night that had made Eirwen an orphan and a pawn and eventually a woman sitting in a room in Crown District trying to figure out whether to wake the man she'd chosen and tell him, or whether to carry this one thing herself for a few more hours.She'd c
Last Updated : 2026-02-22
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