Crown Of Creation Bloodstained Novels & Stories

The mere thought of his name summoned the ghost of my past, dragging me back to the night my world turned crimson. *** FLASHBACK "Run, Rachelle! Don't look back!" my mother screamed, shoving me toward the kitchen cupboard as our cabin doors splintered into pieces. Walter, wearing armor that shimmered under the moon, entered like a demon. My father tried to shift, but a silver blade pierced his chest before his bones could even finish snapping. My mother’s scream was the last thing I heard from her before Walter grabbed her by the hair. "Where is the golden-blooded brat?" Walter roared, his eyes shining with a sickly ambition.

I growled. Yelena’s hand reached out, a fragile butterfly alighting on my clenched fist. “Alexei,” she whispered, her voice laced with concern. “This isn’t your fault. You can’t keep shouldering the burden of that tragedy.” I scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed in the opulent silence. “Burden? It’s more than that, Yelena. It’s a curse, a twisted legacy I never wanted. The crown of Don, forged in the fires of loss and guilt.”

PROLOGUE "Red is always symbolizing love. But for Rose it had never been love. It was blood. Even her name has red on it. Blood that she hates. If she has the time to turn things back on, she will never ever tie herself to the man that she once loved. " A King… Her king that rules the kingdom. The blood that she doesn’t need is the one that can keep her alive. She doesn’t know that love is going to make its way to getting in the way of the love she throws at her. She doesn’t know that once in her life… Red will always be love and Rose will always be red. ROSE AMARA AMBER

Suddenly, there it was - amidst the riotous weather and foreboding wilderness - a shimmering glint caught my eye. Through the heart of the storm, nestled between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak was the Alpha's Crown, gleaming with an ethereal light that cut through the darkness. The Alpha's Crown – a legendary artifact of our kind, imbued with the collective strength of countless leaders. It was said to hold the essence of every pack leader who'd ever worn it. Now, it sat nestled between twisted roots, caught in the spectral dance of lightning that fractured the darkness every few moments. The crown was an intricate weave of silver and gold, studded with rare gems that glowed with ethere

A coffin, sealed with runes and blood, cracked open with a groan. A figure stepped out, cloaked in tattered robes, hands skeletal but pulsing with magic. Their eyes burned red as lava, and they inhaled slowly, tasting the air. “Fools,” the voice hissed. “They think killing the bastard heir was the end.” The figure turned toward the wall, where ancient murals glowed faintly. The Silver Moon symbol was etched there. And beside it, another—a twisted version, corrupted by shadows. “I created this bloodline. I bound it with power… and I will reclaim it.”

The cabinet creaked open—files, a flash drive, and a little glass vial, capped tight, dark red inside. Blood. A scrap of paper stuck to it, Dorian’s scribble: Yours, Sienna. Always was. She reeled back, the vial hitting the floor with a clatter, not breaking but loud as hell. Roman cursed, bending for it, but the lights blinked—once, twice—then went black. Night swallowed them whole, and a low laugh crawled from the stairs. Ezra’s voice slid through the dark: “Loved the Hide and seek, Didn't you?.”

“The moon goddess” “You aren't very smart, are you?” My face flushed red at her words but I still gave a miniature bow in respect to her but my heart burned for an unknown reason. “I should strike you down and be done with it.” She said, her eyes shifting back to the bond. “Strike me down?” I was confused. “Your wolf was never crafted by me. The sun goddess is evil and she always gets a way to soil my creations” soil? I stared down at myself and found that I looked clean.

"The dead don't need land. Besides, Horton is weak, and your father was a fool. This pack was long overdue for a change in leadership." I struggled to sit up. "What about the Blight? You knew it would kill innocent pack members—" "The Blight?" Marcus laughed. "That, my dear she-wolf, was our masterpiece. A poison designed to cripple the land… and your inconvenient little gift along with it." "What?" "Where do you think the corrupted energy came from?" He pulled out a small black vial. "A special poison, courtesy of Brynn. A few drops can contaminate an entire forest."

Melinda ran a finger along the line and named them, steady, like an incantation at the edge of noise: “Dragon blood, the raw power, to bind the brute energy the tear bleeds. Phoenix blood, the rebirth so the seal can mend if it frays. Unicorn blood, its purity to cleanse the corruption. Basilisk blood, A poison to turn anything escaping into ash. Kraken blood, an abyssal strength to anchor us to the depths. Griffin blood, vigilance, watchfulness for the long centuries. Chimera blood, the hybrid coin that traps chaos by uniting it. Werewolf blood, it cycles and changes, to tether time to the seal. Vampire blood, an immortal blood, for endurance.” A deep, ancient red, almost black, that swallo

Unlike the Crimson Vow, this ritual was spoken in the common tongue so that every person present could understand its meaning. “The Blood Crown bears witness to the truth of rulers. Let falsehood fall away. Let hidden hearts be revealed. Let the throne belong only to one who stands without deceit before the ancient covenant.” As the final words echoed through the chamber, the crimson light surrounding the crown lifted into the air. It flowed like liquid fire before gathering above the center of the hall, where it slowly formed a great circle of glowing runes. A gentle force filled the room. No one felt threatened. Instead, it was as though the hall itself had begun listening.