Crown Of Blood Novels & Stories

Blood issued from the slit of his skin, and it hovered in the air. “Do you, your majesty, give the throne to your heir, your son?” The priest approached the king. “Yes,” he said, almost instantly after the priest’s statement. The king’s wrist also suffered the same fate, and his blood stretched in the air with Vladimir’s. The priest stood in the center of the hovering blood, whispering incantations. After a while, the blood glided toward each other until it combined, forming a liquidize ball that was gleaming horrifyingly with the brightness of the sun. It pressed and knot itself, forming and deforming at each second that passed, until with a pop, the blood transformed into a tangible object

“We are proud of you. In whatever you do, don't forget that.” “We came to give you your crown. You fought and you conquered.” Mother rubbed my cheeks. “You are not ordinary. You are a Bloodline Protector.” A crown materialized in my father’s hand, a circlet of moon-steel, inlaid with runes that pulsed softly with ancestral power. “You have earned this crown. You have earned the power. You have earned the title.” He lowered it onto my head. Warmth spread through my body, filling me until my lungs felt too full.

Before I know it, the King tucks out a blade and slashes my front torso slantwise; from my left shoulder to a point near my right hip. The sudden pain causes me to wince as I nearly choke on the blood spurting from my mouth. It is a good thing I always could endure pain. If not, trying not to flinch or act like I’m going through one would have been a massive failure. As blood gushes out of the wound, most flowing down my legs and filling the dents, I watch the Umbra Crown slit his left palm to let his blood drip into the sword dent too. The rock, meant to react to blood, releases components that mix with the blood and gradually stiffens the latter.

The crown was no longer just an object. It was judgment. The priestess raised the blade. Without hesitation, she swiped it across Don's palm. A sharp intake of breath rippled through the hall as crimson blood welled, stark against his skin. The priestess caught it in a chalice already stained by generations before him—blood of past Alpha Kings, some remembered as heroes, others as monsters. My heart lurched violently, missing a step on some dark staircase. This was real. This was irrecoverable. Don clenched his fist, letting more blood fall into the chalice. His jaw tightened; he did not cry out. Strength was required here. There was no room for weakness in a coronation blessed by the Goddes

* And Kael Dravenhart, Crown Prince of Virelion, heir to the throne, trained weapon of his father's will, felt his entire world shatter and reform around the broken girl on the platform. She lifted her head, and even from across the chamber, even through the crowd of predators between them, their eyes met. Recognition flared. Not gentle—nothing about this moment was gentle—but *absolute*. She saw him. Truly *saw* him in a way no one ever had, past the crown prince mask, past the cold soldier, straight down to the wolf that was even now howling for her blood, her bones, her *soul*. And in her eyes, just for a heartbeat, he saw the same recognition reflected back.

Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass. Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His polished, hand-made leather shoe came down, pinning Lorenzo’s palm to the floor with agonizing precision. "The head of the family? Lorenzo, you seem to have forgotten who anointed you to that seat. In this city, what I bestow, I can reclaim whenever I please." Pinned and helpless, Lorenzo twisted his head, staring up at me with eyes saturated in pure venom. "Joanna, you make me sick. I can't believe how fast you crawled into the Don’s bed."

She leaned forward slightly, those dark eyes taking in every etched detail with clinical efficiency that few humans could achieve and fewer still could bear to watch. “Give me the other two,” she said softly. I handed her the other document and rotated it until the rune clusters matched up. They were similar but not identical. Concentric circles. Magic conduits. Anchor points. Evelina drummed one long ivory finger against the paper. “This isn’t a ward,” she murmured. “No,” I confirmed. She looked up at me, then her eyes were alight with understanding. “It’s a bloodline.” I leaned back in my chair. “I know.”

But everything changed six months ago, when Michelle appeared with her so-called "pure Alpha bloodline." I became the criminal who had stolen someone else's place overnight. "The full moon has arrived. Begin the blood rite!" The High Priest's aged voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Michelle rose gracefully, wearing that flawlessly fake smile. She accepted the obsidian bowl used for generations of Alpha coronation blood from the priest and made a cut on her palm. According to pack law, the new Luna must distribute this blood to lower-ranked members as an act of grace. She descended the steps one by one. Wherever she passed, the pack dropped to their knees, kissing the hem of her dress.

All I hear is, "By the power vested upon me, you will become the queen of Evergreen, from today until forever!" A maid removes my crown and my father stands up. He walks next to the high priest. The priest takes a few steps back and my father takes the queen's crown. Gently, he crowns me with it and says, "I am so proud of you!" I force a smile and curtsy as father nods and goes back into his place. I face the crowd once and for all. The high priest announces, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Children, world-- help me welcome the new Queen of Evergreen, Aurora Wintershade!"

​Lyra stared into the shadowed hollow beneath the throne, her gaze snagged on the relic the old texts simply called the Bone Crown. For generations, they had passed down the names like heirlooms—a curse, a prison, an ancient piece of iron that kings feared and Bearers died to carry. But none of them had ever understood its true shape. It hadn't been forged to rule or to break; it had been hammered into existence to kill whatever was currently looking back at her through the dark. And somehow, through some cruel trick of blood and momentum, she had just dragged it back to the land of the living.