All Chapters of CROWNED BY BLOOD: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The Trial's flames are still in my bones, burning with a heat that exists beyond the physical realm, a spiritual fire that sears from within. I can smell the smoke in my hair, acrid and otherworldly, though no earthly fire touched me during those hours of judgment. The scent clings like the memory of burning bridges, of old selves consumed in purifying flame. I can taste ash on my tongue, bitter as regret, though it was not my body that burned in those spirit-flames, it was my soul, stripped bare and cauterized clean.My legs tremble with exhaustion that goes deeper than flesh, a weariness that has settled into my very bones. The landscape around me seems different now, as if the Trial has not only changed me but altered my perception of the world itself. Colors appear more vivid, shadows more defined, as though a film has been lifted from my eyes.When I cross the threshold into the main courtyard where I once held court, where I once dispensed justice that became increasingly indist

The old tunnels answered me as if they had always been waiting for this moment. My blood dripped along the stoned walls, each crimson drop glowing faintly as it struck the ancient rock, guiding me through cracks where no map could reach, no mortal foot had tread.The tunnels seemed to pulse with their own life, responding to something in my blood that recognized this place on a level deeper than memory. The walls bore markings and symbols that spoke of sacrifice and transformation.The earth hummed under my feet, a vibration that traveled through stone and bone alike, pulling me deeper until the air grew thick and tasted of metal and ash. Each step took me further from the world above and closer to something that called to the deepest parts of my cursed soul.And then I saw it.The Soulforge. It was a living furnace, a heart carved from the world's bone and crystal, thrumming with the rhythm of countless souls bound together in purpose.The chamber that housed it stretched beyond wha

The rain had stopped, leaving everything slick and cold.But victory was an illusion, a cruel joke whispered by fate.I felt the cold hand of Aldric's magic sweeping across the field like winter given malicious intent. The temperature plummeted so suddenly that my breath misted before my face, and frost began to form on the blood-soaked stones. The air crackled with wrongness, with the sound of reality being torn apart by fingers that had no right to touch the fabric of existence.A tether manifested, black as the space between stars, coiling around Alexander's chest like a serpent striking its prey. The dark magic wrapped around my son with terrible intimacy, binding him with chains forged from shadow and despair. His eyes went wide with shock, then narrowed with the defiant rage I had seen in him since he was a child refusing to be cowed by thunderstorms.My son roared, his voice carrying every ounce of fury and determination that ran in his blood, defiant even as the shadows began

The Sanctuary is not mine. That is the first thing I remind myself every morning when I wake to the soft light filtering through my simple window, carrying with it the sounds of a community learning to live without the weight of ancient hatreds pressing down upon their shoulders.It was born from the calloused hands of those who once drew blades against each other with murderous intents, wolves who had fought in endless territorial wars that left entire forests stained with blood, witches whose curses had devastated entire bloodlines and left scars that lasted generations, mortals who had lived in perpetual terror of supernatural power they could neither understand nor control, and even the scattered remnants of dragonkin who once scorched these very skies with flames hot enough to melt stone and turn sand to glass. Former enemies laid stone beside stone with careful deliberation, their movements awkward at first with the unfamiliarity of cooperation, timber beside timber with hands t

The night air was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked stone and earth drinking deep after a long drought. I carried the torch myself and walked barefoot on the cold stones. The courtyard was empty at this hour, most of Hollowshade's residents either asleep or keeping a respectful distance from what they knew I needed to do alone. The moon hung heavy and full overhead, its light painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called, its voice lonely and beautiful in the darkness.It had been years since Celeste fell by my hand, since the curse twisted me into something that struck down the woman who raised me to power. My grandmother. My teacher. The woman who taught me to read the old texts and speak the ancient languages. My fiercest critic, the only one who ever truly believed I could rise higher than my bloodline's dark history suggested.She had seen the potential for greatness in me before the curse, and she had seen the monster emer