Crown With Blood Novels & Stories

But everything changed six months ago, when Michelle appeared with her so-called "pure Alpha bloodline." I became the criminal who had stolen someone else's place overnight. "The full moon has arrived. Begin the blood rite!" The High Priest's aged voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Michelle rose gracefully, wearing that flawlessly fake smile. She accepted the obsidian bowl used for generations of Alpha coronation blood from the priest and made a cut on her palm. According to pack law, the new Luna must distribute this blood to lower-ranked members as an act of grace. She descended the steps one by one. Wherever she passed, the pack dropped to their knees, kissing the hem of her dress.

They seized Lorenzo by the shoulders, driving their knees with bone-crushing force into the back of his joints. With a heavy thud, the once-mighty Head of the Family crashed onto the hard marble floor. Lorenzo thrashed, trying to force himself up, but a guard pinned his neck down, grinding his face against the freezing tiles. "Let me go! I’m the head of the Corleone family! You bastards, how dare you treat me like this!" He howled, stripped of every shred of dignity. Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass.

Emery replied. As if she was a spectacular view, everyone’s attention turned to her as she walked towards the king while dragging big baggage behind her. Not only was she wearing an already worn-out armor but dried blood also covered her hands, and stained her face. The prominent bloodstain on her face was marked by the wound on her cheek that Emery seemed to have forgotten that was there. No one knew what she was dragging but the soldiers whom she passed by could only gulp as they saw the trails of blood it left on the ground. “I was thinking of letting the general and the platoon leaders be the ones to confess the truth but I got too carried away…” Emery paused a grin formed on the edge of

Here I have a gift for you. . Laila snapped her fingers and one of her children brought a crown made of the jewels in her cave. The creature handed the crown to me and removed the one in my head smashing it as if it was nothing. . Laila ➡ This crown is a special gift from me... Only those with your blood can wear this.. Anyone out side will die instantly if he wears the crown. . Mustapha ➡ Okay your highness.. .

As she turned towards the king’s direction, her heart almost dropped as she saw him on his knees with only his sword aiding him to keep from falling. “Your Majesty,” she breathed. Now that she could have a closer look at him, there were several cuts on his face, but there seemed to be a deeper wound on his head due to the blood trickling down from his temple down to his jaw. Far across from him, a door opened and another gladiator, whose veins protrude over his bulky muscles, showed up with a huge ax in his hand. The first thing that Emery felt just with the sight of him was that he reeked of death as if the souls of those people he killed continued to bellow and beg for mercy behind him. Wi

“The crown is mine.” I bent a little lower eyeing the way she held him, placing his head on her laps. I ignored their display for an instant, squatting down to grasp the blood coated crown. The piece was an original gold one, with ten slops around it and by the sides were transparent pearls forming a bridge at the start of each slops. “Could someone get a friggin’ fucking ambulance or do you want your new King to be marked as a murderer?!” I suddenly yelled, bringing out a white handkerchief from the breast pocket of my suit. Erasing the stains of blood from the part of the crown it touched, I positioned it on my head.

Hopping the answer would be yes, I flipped to the introduction, the much-needed hope fluttering in my chest as I read. “From their temple origins to their violent renaissance in the Bloody War that birthed Henosis, Crowns of Shame have a complex past mixed with hope and cruelty alike. Despite its variety of intents and shapes, one thing remains the same throughout its history: the scar-tissue that defines it.” I flipped through the book, deterred by the word “scar-tissue”. I stopped at a page with a grotesque image of a man on his knees as someone carved a line across his forehead.

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.

A faint glow pulsed like its own heart beat a shape, curved mark that was glowing beneath the sleeve of my leathers, a mark only seen that I have only seen in books. The Lunar Bond. She looked up. Across the table, Aeryn Valecrow met her gaze again. In that moment she felt terrified and unafraid at the same moment. Nemphis did not like it but craved it all at once. She pushed forward even more.

Breathing unevenly. [XAVIER] (muttering) "The Crown shall bite back... unless the Flame consents. But what if I'm not the Flame? What if I'm just the match?" His fingertips graze the edge of the Crown. It flares black and gold. And from deep within it... a whisper. THE CROWN (whispering) "The blood is awakening. But which will rise? The Flame... or the rot?" A sudden tremor rocks the vault. Xavier stumbles back. Behind him—