Conquest Book Novels & Stories

“The Hollow Throne does not grant power. It takes.” The air tore. The creature recoiled, shrieking, its form flickering. But it did not fall. Then Vame stepped forward. They raised a single hand, and the Hollowed One hesitated. Vame’s voice was a whisper, yet it rang through the chamber like a death knell. “I was the first. I was devoured.” They reached toward the Hollow Crown. The creature screamed. A pulse of raw energy exploded outward. The force knocked Rael backward, the book burning against his hands. The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed the chamber was Vame’s fingers grazing the Hollow Crown and the world shattering around them.

“When we came down from the penthouse, there was no way for our observers to have anticipated that. Now we’ve given ample time for whatever concierge or doorman is on the Oriri payroll to have notified them of our movements. Which makes the return journey the really dangerous part.” Raven breathed out, slowly and heavily. “Listen, I know you’re all in favor of paranoia and all that, but the concierge? Really?” “Why not?” Kade refolded his napkin. “I know they keep Frederick on the take. And besides, I control most of the concierges in each of the Lu siblings’ buildings.” She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew the world she was in now, this cut throat race to be alone at the top. It wa

Isabella compensated for her second class status by belittling Amelia whenever possible, delighting in getting a rise out of her. Amelia tried to remain the mature one, but too often took the bait when Isabella picked at sensitive spots. So when Alexander came between them, it was the spark that lit years of repressed jealousy and rivalry into an inferno. Isabella relished the chance to steal something precious that Amelia treasured. And then to be handed the keys to the kingdom, leadership of the family empire - which should have been Amelia's birthright? It was utter victory, and Isabella twisted the knife at every opportunity.

And we both looked at each other confused. Connor excused us while we went inside and I was holding the book. I was too eager to start reading this book first. Because it might explain why they were calling me ‘Your Majesty’. And I sat on the couch with the book. Connor made two coffee’s and he put them on the coffee table and he sat on the chair next to me so that we could look at it together. He was just as confused as me and wanted to know what the hell was in this book. And why his warriors would act like that around me.

I asked in return. "Anyway joor, just give me the full gist abeg." "Okay. The most important thing you need to know is that I didn't get the contract." "Why na? I thought you said you had everything under control? What happened then?" "A devil and his assistant happened." "All this half half gist, I don't like it oo, just tell me all that happened." How do you tell your kid sister who sees you as a demigod that you were outsmarted by another being.

Both books are combined together, and Abhimanyu's book is titled *Taken: King's Rights Reserved*. ... Thank you, ShineeSunshine ❤️

I must do my objective here first. at last, now here in the History section. unlike the books from other shelves who has the same way of oldness in them, the books in the History section has different stages of being old. some are really worn out and some where just fairly new. grabbing a random book, I skimmed through the pages, wanting to know what era or year this was written, or what year did the content of the book happened. but the book only talked about the happenings of the coronation of the King Youseff Troy Von Travensky and Queen Violetta Suzette Perues. grabbing another book, i skimmed again but it was not the one i was looking for, ‘Maybe i should go for the newer ones.’

I approached slowly, the heels of my boots clicking softly on the polished floor. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I skimmed my fingers across the titles etched on the spines. Tales of kings. Wars. Bloodlines. My gaze caught on a thick, weathered book left open on the desk. Its title was simple: Pack Histories and Blood Betrayals. A cold shiver rippled through me. I leaned over, my shadow swallowing the page, and began to read. At first, it was the usual: chronicles of battles, treaties, ascensions. But then, a word snared me, rooted me in place:

The conqueror had won by inventing a game where victory meant no one else had to lose. Dr. Sharma walked away, her notebook full of facts, her mind full of a silence that was not empty, but profound. She would write her book. It would be a book about a ghost who had haunted the world into waking up. And the ghost, she knew, would have hated every page. Which was, perhaps, the final proof that he had succeeded.

Once I finished, I pushed the parchment deep behind a row of old books on the bottom shelf, making sure my hidden anchor remained inside the palace. As I turned around, my eyes landed on a huge ledger covered in gold markings resting on a velvet podium. *The Chronicles of the Bloodmoon: Operational Achievements and Territorial Expansions.* I gripped the heavy cover, flipping through the pages, my eyes racing over lists of conquered packs, rogue executions, and financial allocations. My heart thudded against my ribs as I searched for the dates from five years ago. I was so focused on the document that I didn’t hear the heavy sound of boots clicking against the floor behind me.