Novel & Cerita Crown Of The Wrath Bringer

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

His wings spread wide, feathers shimmering like liquid gold, ready to defend the innocent and uphold the balance of the realms. Flame curled around Wrath's frame, a living, breathing entity that danced and flickered with his every movement. The inferno cast eerie shadows, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the fierce determination in his molten eyes. His power was raw, untamed, a force of nature that refused to be contained or controlled.

I repeated the last part of the paragraph, something I had said in my head over and over again that I didn’t even need him to read it first. “Now the oaths have been sworn, it is my duty and honour that I now crown Her Majesty, Luna Queen Bridget Black, Queen of all werewolves.” The man announced now holding the beautiful crown which Sebastian designed over my head, knelling down, the heavy crown is soon placed upon me where it did take a lot of my strength to lift my head up after.

* 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.

The sound that called everyone to witness something that couldn’t be ignored. The High Priest’s voice carried across the city through servants stationed at every corner, every street, every place where people gathered: “By order of the High Priest of the Church of Valdris, the alliance between Crown and Church is hereby severed. The woman calling herself Regent has forfeited the spiritual legitimacy required to hold temporal power. Anyone who continues to serve her does so without God’s blessing.” The guards on the execution platform hesitated. Not because they feared God particularly. But because God’s authority was the only thing that had made Morgana’s claim to power seem inevitable. With

With solemn grace, she accepted a male crown of silver metal from her attendant and turned to face the assembly. “By the power vested in me as the Royal Healer, servant of the Moon Goddess, I do hereby crown you, Cedric Ashbourne Everhart, Grand Varkon, second in command of the Wolf Clan. You shall answer to none save the Royals.” Applause rang through the chamber as Healer Dylia placed the crown upon Cedric’s head, its silver crest glinting under the chandelier’s glow.

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

Killian roared over the wind howling through the broken door, his solar fire incinerating the toxic mist around him. The remaining three Thralls ignored the terrifying wolf. They bypassed Killian, their corrupted red eyes locking onto me sitting on the sofa. I didn't stand up. I didn't panic. The First Crown pulsed. I raised my right hand, the hand that had crushed the Dragon King’s core. 'Aether to bind. Magma to burn.'

"Who wore her hair swept to one side. Just like that. She had a scar on her left wrist. Thin. White. From a clasp on a bracelet that broke at her wedding." Seraphina did not move. Her left wrist was covered by her sleeve. "The woman I knew had a laugh," Elena continued. "That was so loud it embarrassed her. She used to put her hand over her mouth when she laughed. I used to tell her it was a foolish thing to do. A laugh like that is a gift, I said. Do not hide a gift." The elevator was still climbing. "I was cruel to her," Elena said. "In small ways. I let my son become cruel to her in large ones. I thought she was not good enough for him." She paused. "She was. He was not good enough for he

I could tell by the quality of the waiting when he picked it up from the courier's table. He read it. He handed it to me. It was from Father Aldric. Alpha King. Luna. I officiated your binding one year ago. I was also present for the coronation. I wanted to write, on the occasion of the first year, to tell you what I saw from the front of the room.