Novel & Cerita A Throne Of Ruin

"Is there any chance my father knows about it?" "Unlikely. The entrance was sealed with Daevari magic. Only someone of my blood can open it, and as far as anyone knows, I'm the last of my kind." Eron moved away from the window and sat in the chair across from me, his movements careful and deliberate. "But getting there will be the problem. The ruins are in the Blackthorn Range, high in the mountains. The only path passes within sight of three Crescent Fang outposts." "So we'd have to sneak through territory crawling with my father's soldiers, climb a mountain, break into an ancient vault, and get back out again. All while Aldrich is preparing for war and probably expecting me to try somethin

“No—no, no—Erevan—something’s wrong—something’s wrong—” He grabbed her hands, forcing their palms together. His shadows wrapped around their skin, trying to anchor her—but they slipped through her light like water through fingers. Her heart hammered painfully. “Erevan—help me—my light—my magic—it’s—” He pulled her against him, voice raw with terror. “It’s not you,” he said fiercely. “It’s the throne.” Aria’s vision blurred. Her light continued unraveling. Thread by thread. Erevan looked up at the throne—voice cracking with rage.

she argued. “Architetta.” He leaned closer, his hands gripping each side of his desk as his voice dropped dangerously low. ”Then this job may take more from you than you expect.” She could feel it then, the danger lurking behind his words. Promising retribution. AILANI’S POV (24 hours earlier.) “She collapsed suddenly.” Everything in my life changed with those three words. A single phone call was all it took to send my whole world crashing down, like a rollercoaster on a broken track.

'Once you fall down there, your physical body, soul and mana energy will fall apart due to the nature of the barrier set in there. '. . the mana flowing in you will be attracted to the closest compatible vessel. . .' Is it going to happen anytime now? Oh yes, he is going to be a significant part of the second destruction of the Kingdom, what an honour. "Thea. . Johann. . " he whispered to himself, facing up from where he believes he fell from. 'I guess this marks the end of it. . .' Having no other choice but to surrender himself, he inhaled the heavy air he grasps, and closed his eyes.

But that throne changed us all. Even me and him. He was once my guard, my protector. Now, he’s after my kingdom. The path to the throne is paved with thorns, pain and blood. To win, I’ll risk it all. I should risk all of that I have even if my heart is included. --- ETHAN ASH PENDLETON

The terror in her dialed irises confirmed his suspicion. His aura turned more cold and dark if possible. A small chuckle vibrated from his rough throat. Her unshed tears , she was trying so hard to control, started streaming down like waterfall, studying his deranged reaction. She was doomed. In hands of man who was her sinner, her tormentor, the man who ruined her.

For the rest of the day I focus on reading through the paperwork, and as expected, I’m only halfway through by the time I clock out, and even if I don’t have it finished, I still get to leave only to return early the next day to continue with it. That’s how the next few days go for me: home, work, reading, reading, reading. It’s a pain, but it helps me get a better idea of the one that I am going up against in the near future. And from each line I read, my suspicion that the leader is something more than a human is only strengthened. Strange wounds that seem to be made by animals. Superhuman strength. Quick reflexes and agility.

Silence returned, but not peace. Just wine, I told myself. Just exhaustion. But the words cut too deep. Ronan’s voice was too real. What if it was true? What if everything I built was already crumbling? What if Ronan lived, waiting to reclaim it? My hands were shaking as I poured another drink, his words were in my head: Brother, the throne you sit on is made of sand. I drank until the bottle was empty, the room moved in my eyes, and when I fell on the bed, the pelt wrapped around me like a burial cloth—I couldn’t run away from the truth.

“Do you think destroying the Throne was the end? You’ve doomed us all.” Lucian snarled, stepping toward her. “Careful, witch. You’ve outlived your usefulness.” But Selene only laughed—a hollow, broken sound. “No, Alpha Draven. You’ve only just begun to glimpse the truth.” She raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the sky, where the blood-red moon still hung heavy. The eclipse had not faded, though it should have. Instead, the crimson glow thickened, dripping across the heavens like veins of blood. “The Throne’s destruction tore open the rift. It was never meant to be shattered. And through that rift, the First Wolves stir.”

And in a voice as old as the stars, she said: > “Then choose, flamechild. Sit the throne—or watch your twin take your place.” --- Silence. Theron trembled. Selene felt her heart split. And then— He turned. And walked away from the throne. “No,” he said. The realm trembled. The Queen laughed—once. And vanished in fire. --- The throne cracked. The girl disappeared like smoke. The realm pulsed once—twice— And began to collapse. --- Kael grabbed Selene’s hand. “Go!” They ran—Elira holding Theron’s hand, Rowan and Naeria shielding them with bursts of raw magic as the mirror realm crumbled behind them.