Novel & Cerita A Throne Of Shadows

Take it down now! However, he did not wait for an answer. I calmly stepped out from the shadows of the room and announced, "I did."

Cold floods my skin, sharp and biting, as if winter itself is pouring through my veins. And when I open my eyes— There is no sky. Only darkness. Not empty. Not dead. Alive—moving—writhing like a sea with no shore. Waves of shadow curl and crash in silence, and between them, jagged spires of bone claw upward like the ribs of some titanic beast. At the heart of it all, a throne rises. Black stone slick with frost, veins of pale light pulsing through it like blood in reverse. And on that throne—

The prince’s eyes lit up in surprise and fury, and even Dahlia, who was so frigid before I spoke, looked alarmed and frightened. “I am guilty, my prince. I was doing something bad behind your back, and I was also in Payn yesterday.” “Then you, scoundrel – you admit you’re that Shadow wolf?!” “Shadow wolf,” I said, laughing softly, “Shadow wolf? Are you referring to the wolves of the Shadow Rune Pack? Aren’t they just some fairytale, Prince Kaist? I didn’t take you as someone who believes in make-believe stories.” The prince, perhaps losing his cool already, suddenly seized me by the collar.

Was he worried that he would not get his witches’ blood. “Rose Coven’s next leader is a powerful witch. She will be creating the nullifier, but as soon as that is set in place, it should be done in less than a month, rules will be brought forth before then. I will continue the transactions until it’s complete. I am also going to be a test subject for the nullifier.” I hoped by telling them that, that Sebastien would approve, considering as a test subject, there’s always a chance I could die, and he doesn’t like me.

(THIRD POV) Dr. Collins leaned back against the cracked leather seat of the taxi, her fingers drumming restlessly on her lap. The sky outside had turned a heavy, ominous shade of blue, the last light of the day smothered by thick clouds, and the streetlights buzzed to life, casting long shadows across the road. It was so much darker than when she had first left Ivy’s place; the hours had slipped away faster than she realized, and the creeping night felt like a veil of anxiety settling over her shoulders.

The throne room is a mausoleum tonight. The pillars lean like watchmen carved from shadow and bone, their ancient stonework weathered by centuries of bloodshed and broken promises. The torches burn lower than they should. Every shadow feels alive, writhing with whispered accusations and the ghosts of those I have slaughtered in my ascent to this cursed seat of power.

“Explain.” The Fractured turned, extending a hand toward the chamber walls. They shifted again—another vision forming like ink blooming on parchment. Two thrones. One of light—gleaming, towering, blinding. One of shadow—imposing, ancient, devouring. But between them— something new. A third shape. A throne still forming, swirling silver and black, unstable, trembling. Aria sucked in a breath. Erevan’s grip tightened around her hand to the point of pain.

His wings were now asymmetrical—one violet-lead, one burning red-fire. He looked at his hands, his fingers trembling. "The Debt is settled, Zora," he whispered, his voice sounding like a thousand people speaking at once. "But the Shadow has a condition. It wants the throne. And it doesn't want to share it with the Light." Suddenly, the Spire’s primary elevator dived down to our floor. The doors opened, and our five-year-old son—the Stone King—stepped out. He was no longer stone. He was flesh and blood, golden and glowing.

The battlefield was seconds from devolving into bloodshed. And then the ground itself split open. With a thunderous crack, the earth beneath Serena trembled and tore. Black stone erupted upward, jagged and gleaming, forming into something vast and terrible. The shape rose higher and higher until it cast its shadow over the entire clearing. A throne. Carved from obsidian, veined with veins of glowing violet light. Half temple, half prison. The Shadow Throne. Serena stumbled back, but the shadows around her seized her wrists, pulling her forward. She struggled, heart pounding, but her own wolf’s voice whispered in her skull.

A third throne. It rose slowly from the floor, built from the same ancient stone but different. One side glowed with pure silver light, bright and steady like moonlight on snow. The other side swirled with deep shadow, dark and alive, shifting like smoke caught in the wind. The two powers met in the middle, blending without fighting. Silver and shadow, balanced together. Lyra’s breath caught. She helped Rowan closer until they stood right in front of it. The throne felt alive. It called to something deep inside her blood.