Romans & histoires Brokedown Palace Book

"** --- And then, just like that— The book slammed shut. Without a single goodbye. Without a clue. Just mystery dropped at our feet again. Micha stared at it in disbelief. "Levi, what is wrong with this book? Every time it closes, it leaves one mystery hanging! Now what does it mean that a human entered the palace looking like Roosevelt's dead queen?!" I chuckled. "Nothing is wrong with the book, Micha. Something's wrong with history." He burst out laughing. We talked for a while—about pack business, possible threats, and what might happen with the elders now that Micha bit one of them. But honestly? We didn't care.

A wonderful invention. Unfortunately, Magnus was terrible at pretending. The man was many things. Subtle was not one of them. I closed the book resting on my lap and stretched my arms above my head before looking through the library window. The palace gardens were unusually lively this afternoon. Servants moved between flower beds while guards changed shifts near the outer walls. Everything looked peaceful. Too peaceful. Life had taught me to distrust peace; it rarely lasted. A knock interrupted my thoughts. “Come in.” One of the palace servants entered with a respectful bow before stopping a few steps inside the room.

But it was only a servant, slipping inside with a tray of goblets and a fresh decanter of wine. “You may leave it there,” Charlotte said smoothly, masking the tension in her tone. “Yes, my lady.” The servant bowed low and left, leaving her once again alone. Charlotte let her fingers rest on the closed book. She could feel the truth pressing closer, even if no one dared to speak it around her. Something had cracked—not too much, not yet, but just enough for her to sense the fracture running through the heart of the palace. And she knew, in her bones, that it was only the beginning.

The first night Aslan was locked up in the basement of Rosat’s headquarters, he couldn’t sleep at all. His body kept him awake because he felt unsafe. Furthermore, that room was a source of Aslan’s trauma. All night, he just curled up in a corner with tears streaming down his face. No one came to him after his father left. The door was locked from the outside, and Aslan knew security outside his room was tight.

Elena followed without hesitation, her heels somehow still clicking with composed precision despite everything. Matteo right behind them, one hand pressed against his injured side. As they disappeared into the lower levels of the dying palace, descending into service corridors most people didn't know existed. The structure above them groaned like something alive finally giving in to gravity, like a beast in its death throes. Stone screamed. Steel bent. The architecture of power quite literally collapsing under the weight of violence it had never been designed to withstand. And somewhere far ahead, in a place built from steel and silence and absolute control,

Mom chuckled and gave him a flying kiss. "Geez, I don't wanna see you guys flirt anymore. I am done. Goodnight dear folks." They wished me back as I went upstairs in my room. Taking a shower, I sat down at my bed. My gaze fell over the book kept on the table. Right, I should start with the assignment. "Myth of The Broken Throne". I mumbled opening the book. The pages were yellowish, a little tattered on the corners, clearing showing how old it was. Nonetheless, the classic vibes were all I needed to jump into the story.

I knew immediately death wasn’t an option for me, and perhaps I should live as long as I could, that I would spend the rest of my days suffering and mourning for the one true love I had. “It’s done” I heard Lucas say next to me and I nodded. It all felt like a dream playing before me. “Yes,” I said and walked away. My legs were barely stable, and I had to use all the strength in me to walk back to the palace, I couldn’t risk my people seeing how broke their alpha was. Tears filled my eyes and as I climbed the stairs that led to my chamber my eyesight became blurry; I struggled to reach my room, I banged the door before me and slumped to the floor.

That night, Queenie lay alone on the cold floor until midnight before finally getting up to pack her belongings and leave. How ironic. I had worked to buy this villa as our marital home and even put it under Queenie's name. Yet here she was, kicked out by Francis. I remembered how, while I had been alive, she had sung Francis' praises, calling him kind, understanding, and considerate. Now, it all seemed like a cruel joke. After the beating, Queenie went to my grave that same night. She had always preferred red wine, but this time, she brought a bottle of strong vodka and drank silently in front of my grave.

We begin swaying to the music as we keep glancing at each other. I have found my happiness and piece of mind even after a lot of struggles. Looking into Gabriel's eyes, I just know it that this is just the beginning of something bigger. I am happy to announce that FADED is a paid story on goodnovel with over 3K views. It honestly means a lit to me as a young writer. I urge you to continue supporting me by reading my other works on my profile. I will be dropping the synopsis and cover in some time. There is still a lot to discover for Lyka and so, don't miss out on book two which I will perhaps be dropping next year.

People began trickling back into the city's main square, although all of them eyeing the guards with uncertainty. "PEOPLE OF THE DARKNESS!" Brock's voice rang out through the city as the proxy stones kicked on, displaying the grand hall of the palace and all of the people there. Brock was standing center of the room next to Alayna and Christopher, Markous and his wife Roanna were both seated on their thrones in the background each side of the hall lined with the nobles and their families. "As many of you've already heard. There has been a nasty, filthy, no good corrupt human allowed to enter our paradise! -"