Crown Of Blood Novels & Stories

Chapter 17: The Curse of the Crimson Hunt “A crown is not a shield, Mira. It is a beacon. And now, every monster in the dark knows exactly where you are.” The silver light of the crown faded, settling into a steady, pulsing hum against my brow. I stood in the center of the vault, my chest heaving, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird trying to claw its way out. The crown felt heavy—not physically, but spiritually. It pressed against my skull, a constant, humming weight that vibrated in time with my heartbeat. The power was intoxicating, but it was also terrifying. I could feel the blood of a hundred generations whispering in my ears.

“The first king cannot return without a body.” Shigure looked at me. “A body carrying royal tide blood and wolf memory.” Cael gave a bitter laugh. “So everyone chose the same girl.” The book opened again. This page showed the blood moon. Three crowns circled beneath it. The Tide Crown. The Stormcrest Crown. A third crown made from black bone. Words burned across the glass. WHEN THE THREE CROWNS MEET, THE FIRST KING MAY RISE. THE LAST QUEEN MUST BE EMPTIED.

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

One thing Roxanne liked and hated about being dragged into a mare's nest and a world of dementia in Blood Moon pack were the elegant and elaborate ball parties they threw, where the champions looked their best and Roxie got to feel beautiful and a princess. Just like the other girls, Roxie was dressed pretty, in a glamorously red gown that flowed to the floor, her hair was done and her makeup was nicely touched by Bloom who fortunately didn't bake her face with too much makeup, unlike the other girls who looked like they had eaten up makeup and was overly dressed.

The pack roars with laughter and many of the members begin to chant, "Let her sit, let her sit." Victor stands beside my throne and the head elder walks towards him holding my crown on a golden pillow. I gasp when he hands the crown to Victor. The crown is gold filigree with diamonds and emeralds on the tops of each point. Just over Victor's shoulder I can see the Blood Moon shining brightly in the sky. It is almost at its highest point in the night sky. Looking back at Victor I notice that he has already begun his speech. I cringe inwardly hoping that I have not missed anything important.

Just wind. And silence. Behind her: the crown—no longer gold, but forged in obsidian and bullet casings. It wasn’t worn. It was placed—on a pedestal. A symbol. She didn’t need it on her head. Because the world had already bent its knees. ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — FINAL ENTRY OF THE CITADEL ERA “I did not inherit an empire. I burned the ashes and named the smoke.” “I did not want their crown. I broke it, reforged it, and left it behind.”

Each blow echoed with years of loss. “You destroyed our name,” John rasped. “You turned it into a curse.” “You fool,” the Blood Father spat, lurching up. “I saved this place, I gave it fear, strength, power to survive.” “No,” John growled. “You caged it in your madness.” John reached for the gleaming black crown on the Blood Father’s head and tore it free. The Hollow trembled. The crown pulsed in his grip, golden veins twitching like they were alive. The moment he touched it, heat surged up his arm, raw magic biting into his skin.