Novel & Cerita Crown Of The Wrath Bringer

"I am Desmond, my brother sent me here. To spar with you…" "Brother, you mean Deimos errr the crown prince?" She made sure. "Yes." Not edited

“I fucking love you. I’ll let you in eventually. Keep your mouth shut about the crown. It’s dangerous.” “Have you worn it?” I asked. Ezra was a powerful wolf. He conquered more than twelve packs already. He was feared and respected among all the other packs. It would all make sense if he got the power from the crown made by our goddess. “No… my Father did and it killed him slowly.” My heart slammed forward. Okay, maybe he doesn’t need all the power. “It’s getting late. Let’s head back to the mansion.” “No, I have to get home and check on Dad.”

A crowd gathered outside the palace gate. William stood by with his hand on his sword. The leader of the group stood tall but did not respond upon hearing her. Elinor knew he could hear her. This man was the most cunning in all of Avalon Kingdom. A saint in appearance, a devil at heart. As the Archbishop, many respected, and admired him, but they didn’t know beneath his saintly appearance lay a heart brimming with malice. A sword blessed by God and stained with the blood of royalty. With those same hands he turned the pages of the Bible, and with those same hands he wiped out the lives of the entire Elton family, with the bodies of those implicated stacked on top of each other.

Despite her delicate condition, she stood upright, exuding an unshakeable confidence and undeniable power. Beside her stood a slightly older woman, Luna Verona, who was equally beautiful, and her presence was equally commanding. Her silver-streaked hair framed a face that bore the wisdom of battles and the love of a mother. Her smile was permanently on her face, and her eyes were locked on the priest before them who held a velvet pillow, upon which rested a crown unlike any other. The Crimson crown’s diamond embedded in its centre, which gleamed fiercely, reflecting all lights upon it in shimmers of colours, pulsing with energy that seemed alive. It was a crown only worn by the crimson Alpha

Mason’s jaw tightened as he regarded his sister. “I did,” she responded, strolling in. “But I’m back. Obviously.” “And Kaden?” She stiffened, her eyes darkening. “What about him?” Mason didn’t press it. No one did. My eyes lingered on the little girl with her. She had pale blonde hair and eyes so white, they rivaled mine. I looked away. “The Crown of Thorns was not forged as a gift,” I went on, ignoring the pressure against my forehead. “It was wrought from divine wrath and bound with the breath of the goddess herself.

“Let her try.” But I— I felt the tremble beneath my ribs. Not from fear. From fury. “No,” I whispered. “Let her come.” I turned, lifted my hand—and summoned the crown of flame that had once been gifted to me in a vision, now real, forged by vow and blood and choice. It hovered above my brow. And when it settled— The Tower bowed. The bond flared. And the war began.

“Bandit!” “Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay? Did that motherfucker touch you?” “No. He said his buyer wanted me untouched,” she said, and her whole body shuddered. “We got the bastard,” Bandit said, and she visibly relaxed against him. The door opened again and Nitro strode toward them. “Wrath, fuck man. We owe you.” “That’s Wrath?” Caroline asked incredulously. “You sent Wrath to find me?” “He’s the best at finding what others can’t,” Bandit said.

The warriors clashed their heavy shields in a deafening thunder, and a massive wave of proud, primal wolf howls tore from the throats of thousands, echoing off the highest mountain peaks until the very earth shook. Braham stepped forward, taking the heavy golden crown from the cushion. His eyes were burning with an intense, fierce public devotion that made my breath hitch. He didn't look at the crowd; he looked only at me as he carefully, deliberately placed the crown upon my head, his fingers lingering against my hair for a fraction of a second.

It felt… steadied. By the time the city center was ready for the coronation, Ancnix looked different. Not untouched by war—but shaped by survival. The Storm crest hung proudly from every banner and dais, lightning and lion rendered in gold and deep blue. The square had been cleared and rebuilt, stone polished, platforms raised. Everyone knew there was still so much work ahead. But today was not for mourning. Today was for a future that had refused to die. Elora and Declan stood beside Zayden and Kailee as the ceremony unfolded, the crowd filling the square in waves of color and sound. When the crown was placed, when the vows were spoken, the roar that followed shook the very bones of the cit