City Of Thorns Novels & Stories

THE CLAMOR of the gongs, lost its harmony. The beating drums were shut as the pointed obsidian pour down like heavy rainfall under the sheen of the blue moon. The lanterns that lit the once lively street of a petty dominion- reigned over by the other two nations- arose into flames as it silence the dead corpses lay before the cold pavement. The stench of her Lycanthropy kin's blood numbed into Yseah's wrinkled nose. Her pair of lilac eyes were unbeknownst of the tragedy that occurred in a leap of her heartbeat.

Lycans were said to be extremely attractive but I guess it wasn't applicable to all of them. “Welcome to hell motherfuckers,” the lycans screamed, laughing hysterically as we marched inside, bounded on both arms and legs. The walls of the city were painted red with scary old statues littered at every corner. “All hail Akash, queen of the damned,” Thorn shouted, prostrating before one of the statues. “All hail our great queen,” the others chorused. “I'm tired,” Steph muttered, squeezing my shoulder tightly. Her breathing was tense and her legs jittery.

It’s anything, but light and something like the evil darkness. Blood, Gore and Coldness exists in every corner of this city. It’s because this is the Thorn Clan territory. The rule and order of this city has long been in the hands of the Mafia Clan everyone fears. I have seen it from close, before I was kicked far away from the life of luxury and pleasure. I inhale the cold air and push my hands into my pockets. I aim to bring the light back. With the thought of light, Valentina’s face revolves in my mind. She looked so hurt when she realised that I was only manipulating her into doing what I wanted her to do.

“Do you accept stewardship of the Thorn, to command its blade and bear its scars, to serve no throne but your own?” For a heartbeat, no one breathed. Everyone expected hesitation. Cordelia most of all. Gabrielle met her gaze, calm and steady. “I accept.” A sharp intake of breath swept the chamber. Cordelia’s painted brows lifted ever so slightly. “You accept?” “Yes. The Thorn shaped this city. I’ll see that it no longer strangles it.” Whispers erupted like insects. Some clapped in polite relief; others exchanged dark glances. Cordelia’s smile returned, small but satisfied. “Then kneel.”

Because Max Carter—king of ashes and thorns—was still unconscious on the pavement, the rain washing away the blood but not the damage. Not the damage at all.

The old Thorne mansion stood as a forgotten presence on the fringes of Eros City. Time had not been kind. Ivy choked the once gracious facade, and shattered windows glared like vacant eyes into the night. The gate screamed open on a metallic shriek as Valerio drove them through, headlights clawing across ruined stone and weeds that clawed their way up the entry steps. Sera sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her fists tight in her lap. "You grew up here?"

It was a city of glass and ivy, of light and water. "Welcome to Actual Earth," the son said. "But be careful. The Grand Director isn't dead. He’s just... evolved." From the shadows of the new city, the massive, golden eye of Arthur Thorne opened, filling the entire sky.

He closed his eyes. And the entire house shook. Wards slammed into place. Every window glowed faint blue. The doors hummed. The air thickened with Fae power so old and heavy it made my teeth vibrate. “…I call my army.” Thorn didn’t look back. He stared into the darkness outside. “He wanted my attention,” Thorn said. “Now he has it.” A howl split the night in the distance. Storm covered his ears. Jenna’s grip tightened on the twins.

They weren't insulated anymore. When our vanguard of Blackthorn infantry and chained Blood Moon prisoners poured through the southern gates, the city didn't cheer; it held its breath. The majestic, white-stone avenue leading straight to the grand assembly hall fell into an eerie, suffocating silence. Citizens fled to the sides of the street, pressing themselves against the pristine stone walls, their eyes wide with terror as they stared at the dark, armored legions marching beneath the Moonveil banner.

They were safe for now, but only if he stayed alive to keep Thorne’s eyes on the bridge. ​"You speak of sparks and powder kegs, Leo, but you forget who built the keg," Thorne said, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind with impossible clarity. "I didn't just build this city; I designed the very hunger that drives your 'rebellion.' Every riot in the Gutter is just a pressure valve I installed to keep the system from exploding." ​"Then you missed a leak," Leo countered.