Novel & Cerita Crown Of Blood

One with my name. My blood. My crown.

But as she held Darian’s bloodstained hand, Serenya wondered if victory had already stolen too much. Because in the end, crowns were not forged of gold, but of blood. And hers had only just begun to bleed.

The crown hummed a lullaby in Romanian, Welsh, German, Japanese, and cabbage-scented love. Celeste Valentina Morua—14-year-old white-blonde Blood Wizard, Level 1, Crown equipped

Selene cuts her hand first, followed by Octavia, Archie, and Dean. The blood mixed and came out of the bowl. Selene twisted her hand, and two identical crowns appeared. The crown is golden with red gemstones on it. It has three thorns coming out of it, but it confused me why there were two. The blood poured on the crown, and I can see the blood entering the gemstones and turning them crimson red. Selene looked at Dean, smiling at him.

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

Mission accepted. My jewellery is onyx and silver, dark and glossy against my skin. Finally, Mum places the black crown gently on my head. It’s made of delicate metal vines and onyx stones, shaped to look like it grew right out of the shadows. And it completes me. I don’t just look like a queen—I look like his queen. “You’re absolutely stunning,” Mum says, adjusting the crown like she’s placing it on actual royalty. “Caden’s going to pass out.” “Good,” I smirk. “Let the man suffer.”