Bring Me To Horizon Throne Novels & Stories

She granted the Kingdom of Darkness to Tenebris, a man created from darkness, who could wield it for his own advantage, who could delve into the darkest corners of your mind, a man dark enough to make the vital decisions for his kingdom. She granted the Kingdom of Summer to Solis, a powerful man filled with anger, aggression, and an intense possessiveness over his people, who burned anyone who came near. So the Mother altered her choice and created a new man who could better control the fire burning inside him: Ferno. She granted the Kingdom of Autumn to Folium, a very serious and determined man, who believed his kingdom was the mightiest, making him bitter and jealous, taking whatever he wa

"They are animals. And you are a Sovereign. You were to be set in gold, not trampled by the swine in the mud like the bastards who are stamping their place with blood and dirt. I am elevating you, Jessica. I am granting you a throne which shall exist forever, and they shall be forgotten as soon as the thaw of winter blows off the fragrance of them.” He indicated to a servant, who came to pour his chalice. This was it. The time I had practised a thousand times in the darkness of my cell. “Tell me, Thorne,” I said, and in a kind of husky whisper, that came down to a low, and at the same moment I felt the effect on his heart and it drew him into the seriousness of my feigned helplessness.

And I, in my ultimate defeat, find a hollow sort of peace. Trapped in the void, I’m startled when different visions flicker to life before me. Three thrones appear, each bathed in its own distinct hue—emerald green, deep crimson, and royal blue. On each throne sits a young king, their features strikingly familiar, and yet not. It’s as though I’m watching a play with characters I should recognise but don’t.

Each piece glowed faintly with banefire residue, a testament to the fallen’s dissent. At the summit, the newly christened Throne of Bones stood silent and terrible against the moon. Nyra ascended the steps, each footfall echoing across empty hell. She reached the seat and turned to her companions. “Let this stand as a warning,” she said; “to any who would threaten our realm again.” Urhan moved to her side, placing a massive paw at the throne’s base. “Then throne befits a warrior-queen.” Ryker knelt before Nyra. “Your seat is earned.”

I hope they try,” I said, heat curling around every syllable. “Because I won’t just tear down the throne. I’ll burn the roots it was grown from.”Ryker’s eyes darkened with something like reverence—and hunger.“I’ll stand with you,” he said. “Whatever war comes.”I didn’t doubt that. But I also knew that standing with me meant painting a target on his back. Lucas wouldn’t take this quietly, and the other packs? They would see me as a threat wrapped in lace and fury.Let them.Before the moon had risen to its peak, word had already spread beyond Blackmoor’s walls: the Omega Queen had returned.Not a rumor. Not a whisper.A reckoning.And I would make sure every soul who once called me weak learned th

On the day my fiancé, Raphael Moretti, and I were supposed to get our marriage license at city hall, I dressed with care. But by noon, he still hadn't shown up. Aurelia De Luca video-called me. "Sofia, where are you? Raphael's been waiting for you all day." Panic hit me. "Weren't we signing in Palermo?" Aurelia frowned. "It's Taormina, Sofia. Everyone's been waiting for a long time." I drove straight to Taormina. When I arrived, no one was there. When the video connected, Aurelia was crouched on the ground, laughing hard. "Sofia, don't tell me you actually went. We're already on Lipari. Raphael's setting up the wedding venue to surprise you." I left my car at the port and took a boat to Lipa

“We were always going to.” ⸻ Veyron stepped forward. “But the eighth cycle is different.” Lucian looked at him. “How?” “Because you remember.” Amara stepped beside Lucian. “And because we’re together.” Veyron smiled. “Exactly.” “Which means you are finally ready.” “Ready for what?” Veyron raised his hand. The golden crack behind him expanded. A massive throne appeared beyond it. Empty. Waiting. “The throne of the Origin.” Lucian stared. “You want me to sit on it.”

The chandelier above swung violently, though no wind stirred. The air grew heavy—thick with something old. A magic that wasn’t mine. A presence that filled the room like black smoke. Alika’s body lifted slightly off the settee, her hair rising as if underwater. Her lips moved— But it was Morrigan’s voice that came out. > “The vessel breaks, the bride awakens. This time, the throne shall not remain empty.” “No,” I said firmly, stepping forward. “She is not your throne.” I grabbed the silver blade again and slashed my palm, fresh blood spilling.

“And I suppose you already have a plan?” Sienna’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I do.” She turned her gaze toward the throne, the shadows around it pulsing in response. “The First King was right. Someone must take the throne to bind the world anew. But it won’t be a sacrifice.” She lifted a hand, and the air crackled. “It will be a beginning.” A deep, resonant hum echoed through the Hollow Realm as the throne shifted. The jagged stone smoothed, reshaping into something more defined, more absolute. The fractures in the sky seemed to pulse in time with it, as if responding to her will.

“Debt. Memory. Potential. You broke hierarchy now shape what replaces it.” --- Araya — The New Throne The black flame pulsed, then breathed. Ash swirled and fused bone white lines veined in gold and shadow rising into a seat from ruin. Fresh runes inked themselves along its base, whispering in a new tongue. Dorian’s light caught its edge in a clean halo. “It’s alive.” “It’s listening.” Nyxara prowled, tail lashing. Every throne waits for a name. Give it none. Make it guess.