13 Crowns Novels & Stories

For once, I did not try to make myself appear smaller. Greta adjusted the fabric over my shoulder and smiled at my reflection. “You look like a Luna.” “I am a Luna.” Her smile widened. “Exactly.” On the vanity rested the ceremonial crown. It was not delicate. Ironclaw did not create delicate things. The crown was made of dark silver, shaped like two wolves facing each other beneath a crescent moon. Small black stones had been set into the metal, catching the morning light. I lifted it carefully. My hands trembled.

Prevent the awakening of something called the Void Beast—or die. I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to steady, but the tremor in my hands refused to disappear. Thirteen years. Thirteen whole years of brutal training, unanswered questions, and mysterious dreams, and this was the explanation I received? I almost laughed from sheer disbelief. “The Four Crown Kings?” I repeated under my breath, hoping saying the words aloud would somehow make them less absurd. It had the opposite effect. Aunt Mira, who had remained silent until now, stiffened so noticeably that I immediately turned toward her. That reaction alone told me everything I needed to know—she knew exactly what that title meant.

I shut the door with a flick of my wrist, turned the lock, and shut out the prying eyes. "Don Romano, I'm Elena," I announced. "Here's a token from the Deluca family." The wheelchair turned slowly to face me. Even prepared, I caught my breath for a split second at the sight. His face was a study in contrasts. The left side was chiseled perfection, but the right was hidden behind a silver mask, with burn scars creeping out like red, twisted centipedes. It was truly a horrifying sight, a mix of the divine and the monstrous.

Seven. The energy spiked. Six. Five. My instincts sharpened, pulse accelerating in sync with the countdown. Four. Three. I saw someone stumble behind her. Two. The crowd compressed. One. And instinct took over.

Her crown fell to the marble floor with a clear clang, there seems also to be a clanging sound of someone's sword falling to the ground outside the palace gates. The deep red gem on the crown shattered and scattered. Warm blood down the steps on the cold ground, slowly spreading, reminiscent of the shallow creek she used to play in barefoot as a child. This golden hall of Avalon became her grave, swallowing her bones, burying her life. Outside, the sun shone on the snow, melting it bit by bit…

the grand duke ordered, placing her on her bed. After 5 minutes, Clover was already in her room, gasping for air. It seemed that he had rushed to get there. Clover was a tall man, his hair a vibrant shade of red, almost as if it were on fire. It was always styled in a messy but fashionable way, adding to his overall charm. Perched on the bridge of his nose were a pair of rectangular glasses, which framed his deep brown eyes and added a certain intellectual air to his appearance. “My lord,” Clover greeted the grand duke, and his gaze was on Elen. She could see the surprise look on his face.

I mean, “Will you do me a favor and get lost?” he said while fixing the hem of his fitted dress shirt, “Why didn’t Xerxes come? He knew about this one, my god,” he dramatically fixed his hair on his forehead. “You’re there, nothing to worry about,” the woman said, “Come on, let’s get this done,” All of us were divided based on our factions; The Canine, The Dawn, The Sabletail, The Wildridge, and The Averrant.

Then I closed the lid with a soft click and met his eyes straight on. “Satisfied?” Something flickered across his face. He clearly understood what I was doing, but he wasn't concerned about the insurance check. His attention was locked on the bigger question: why Scarlett had refused the damn thing. His gaze darkened. For a second, the heavy lids lowered, hiding whatever complicated storm was moving behind them. Then he spoke, his voice low. “I paid over seven hundred million for that crown.” Seven. Hundred. Million？！

Suddenly, there it was - amidst the riotous weather and foreboding wilderness - a shimmering glint caught my eye. Through the heart of the storm, nestled between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak was the Alpha's Crown, gleaming with an ethereal light that cut through the darkness. The Alpha's Crown – a legendary artifact of our kind, imbued with the collective strength of countless leaders. It was said to hold the essence of every pack leader who'd ever worn it. Now, it sat nestled between twisted roots, caught in the spectral dance of lightning that fractured the darkness every few moments. The crown was an intricate weave of silver and gold, studded with rare gems that glowed with ethere

Zhatierians never like materialistic items unless it’s the King’s and Queen’s crown and both of them find it a pain on their head but being King and Queen, they had no choice. Eve had a crown for herself too. It was red just like Adam’s crown and a golden jewels decorate the middles of the crown with small stones scattered through what look like plant veins and small red rose giving it a bright red colour on the crown. It was beautiful but Eve never liked it. It was too much but she didn’t know how to tell Adam that.