A Crown Of Chains Novels & Stories

His voice was so hoarse that it made my ears sting, "I wondered why that thing didn't scoop out your heart. Turns out, your blood was the best shield..." …… I woke up drenched in sweat, back in my bed. It was a week before the Haunts world descended. The gold bar from last night's burial was still heavy in my pocket.

"That isn't what I do. You were bleeding out-I had no choice." His lips curved, not in warmth but in something darker-an expression carved from sorrow and endless battle. It lent his face, already sculpted in impossible perfection, the look of a fallen angel who had long ago been tired of paradise. "You do not yet understand, healer." His voice deepened, gravel and smoke woven through a resonance that made the very air hum. "Every stitch you placed in me has bound you closer to my fate. Already, the shadows know your scent." A cold shiver rippled up my arms, raising gooseflesh. "Shadows?" I managed, my voice barely audible while my hand soothed Chicken Nuggets fur. "What shadows?"

Looking around him, he noticed that it was a truly beautiful place, although due to its size it seemed lonely, he realized that apart from Keil, there was no one else. Near the place where he was sitting he noticed a simple, but elegant black cane, which was floating motionless a short distance away and on his legs as if he were waiting for its owner was a crown of grayish metal with three prongs, in The base of each of those prongs was a beautiful gem, the gems on each side being pure white and absolute black, the one in the center had all the colors of the rainbow and was slowly changing from one side to the other. tonality. He casually placed the crown on his head, but doing that was a te

We step into a chamber that is nothing but void and thunder. No floor. No walls. Just an endless storm that has been raging since the first Dacian queen spoke the first word of Deep Script. At its center floats the Thunder Crown. Bigger than the one on my head. Wilder. Made of living lightning that screams and sings at the same time. It is beautiful. And it is furious. The moment I see it, every ounce of storm inside me answers. The crown on my temple cracks down the middle. The one in the void reaches for its twin like a starving thing.

The crown is just the provider of that. It may seem useless, but in reality, it has a lot of value. Especially if you wish to save someone. Now that I look at this other amulet. This one was made with black and silver chains, and a red oval ruby in the center held another secret. The value of this one was more than any life, for it had the power of bringing one to life.

Ancient black stone, cracked down the middle and wrapped in chains thick as my arms. Above it floated a crown. Shadow shaped into royalty. It was beautiful in the way a storm over open water was beautiful. Dark, shifting, edged in silver light. Points rose from it like thorns, or teeth, or the jagged peaks of a mountain seen in nightmare. The Crown. My blood recognized it. That was the only way to describe it. The burn on my palm flared. My knees weakened. A voice slid through my mind, soft as silk over a blade.

Next to the priest approached two others, of lesser rank: both held a green velvet cushion with gold embroidery. On a pillow was placed a huge gold chain adorned with precious gems. While on the other rested Nathan's crown, different from the one worn by his predecessor. Nathan's crown was composed of a thick dark gold circle, with thin, brilliant threads forming relief designs throughout the circle, contrasting with the darker gold of the circle; At the base of the tips, also adorned with a layer of golden threads, were placed green gems that radiated reflections under the kiss of the sun's rays. The priest raised the gold chain and with great solemnity placed it on Nathan's shoulders.

“Chains. Wrists and ankles. She’s in one of the isolation cells.” Daemon filed that information away with the precision of a man making mental notes about which people would need to die today. Rowan, who’d supervised the restraint of an innocent girl. Rowan, who’d considered her dangerous enough to chain. Rowan, who was looking at him now with the specific wariness of someone recognizing that the king’s mood had shifted into dangerous territory. “Leave us,” Daemon said as they reached Viktor’s cell. “Your Majesty, protocol requires…” “Leave. Us.”

They seized Lorenzo by the shoulders, driving their knees with bone-crushing force into the back of his joints. With a heavy thud, the once-mighty Head of the Family crashed onto the hard marble floor. Lorenzo thrashed, trying to force himself up, but a guard pinned his neck down, grinding his face against the freezing tiles. "Let me go! I’m the head of the Corleone family! You bastards, how dare you treat me like this!" He howled, stripped of every shred of dignity. Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass.

Right then, the banquet hall doors flew open with a bang. Lena strutted in, decked out in a stunning gown, flanked by her bodyguards. "Nolan!" she called out, her voice dripping with sweetness. "I heard someone was giving you trouble..." Her words trailed off as she caught sight of William next to me, the broken glass, and the gunmen in black sprawled on the floor. Lena's expression flipped in an instant.