Casting Crowns Courageous Novels & Stories

🖤 Jacob 🖤 Stella once told me something I didn’t take seriously at the time. “When a man throws all his cards on the table,” she said, looking way too pleased with herself, “there is a possibility for hope.” At the time, I thought she was being dramatic. Now?

Lucky to be alive, but then a cripple. He dragged himself back, looking to hide out with the small-time crooks he used to look down on. However, his 'shining achievements' were the talk of the town, and nobody wanted to shelter this total washout and walking disaster. He could not even find a spot in the lowest rungs of the criminal ladder.

The image of shattered glass flashed in his mind. He opened the door and slid into the back seat. The car moved immediately. No one spoke for the first few blocks. Jamie stared out the window — jaw tight — refusing to look at Luca. “You are angry,” Luca said finally. “Yes.” “Good.” Jamie blinked — thrown. “Good?” “Anger keeps you alert,” Luca replied. “Fear makes you reckless.” Jamie turned toward him. “And what does loyalty make you?” Luca’s gaze shifted slightly — assessing. “Careful,” he said. Jamie laughed softly — humorless. “You call this careful?”

The warriors clashed their heavy shields in a deafening thunder, and a massive wave of proud, primal wolf howls tore from the throats of thousands, echoing off the highest mountain peaks until the very earth shook. Braham stepped forward, taking the heavy golden crown from the cushion. His eyes were burning with an intense, fierce public devotion that made my breath hitch. He didn't look at the crowd; he looked only at me as he carefully, deliberately placed the crown upon my head, his fingers lingering against my hair for a fraction of a second.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and, amid her frightened screams, quickly snipped it into a ruined mess. She shrieked, "My hair!" I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Didn't you say you wanted to ruin my face earlier? To the point that no werewolf will ever look in my way again?" Julia's eyes snapped wide as color faded from her face. She tried to scramble back in terror. I took the crown box and opened it slowly right in front of her. The silver crown glittered under the lights, a cruel contrast to how disheveled and pathetic she looked.

The ground rumbled with a deep roar, setting the stage for Jim as he led his crew of infant spirits into a clash with the Haunts that sliced through the wind. Those infant spirits were fierce, leaving the Haunts no chance to stand their ground. Under Jim's leadership, the enemy was slowly pushed back, inch by inch.

I grab his shoulders, shaking him. "Fight it!" He looks up, his eyes voids edged with gold. "I can't. It's too loud." The Chorus watches from the storm's eye, her mask flickering with satisfaction. *"The crown's song is eternal. You cannot silence it."* I turn to her. "Then I'll rewrite it." I plunge my hand into Eden's chest. --- **The Rewrite** The storm stills. The First Wolf's roar becomes a whisper, then a whimper. Eden gasps, his scars dimming as I pull the crown's ghost from his blood-a shard of light that hums with the Chorus's melody.

Even Damon. A tremor went through me, my wolf howling inside my chest. This was not submission. This was a crown. My kingdom. My people.

The council chamber was cavernous, its stone walls adorned with banners bearing the crest of Arindale—a golden falcon soaring against a crimson backdrop. Emilia’s footsteps echoed as she entered, the heavy wooden doors closing behind her. The chamber was already alive with voices, nobles and advisors engaged in animated conversation.

By the time her peripheral vision detected the movement, there was no time for her to react, no time to summon her magic to defend herself. That was not the case for Ralin, however. His volkaane reflexes were far superior to any human, wizard or not. He leaped up and snatched the thing out of the air with two hands before it could strike his mother. When he landed, he was holding a jet black bird firmly in his grip. The creature’s wings beat furiously against Ralin’s forearms in a futile attempt to break free from his grasp. “A crow,” Dominic said. His expression darkened. “In the past, they have been called harbingers of death.”