Crown With Blood Novels & Stories

​Lyra stared into the shadowed hollow beneath the throne, her gaze snagged on the relic the old texts simply called the Bone Crown. For generations, they had passed down the names like heirlooms—a curse, a prison, an ancient piece of iron that kings feared and Bearers died to carry. But none of them had ever understood its true shape. It hadn't been forged to rule or to break; it had been hammered into existence to kill whatever was currently looking back at her through the dark. And somehow, through some cruel trick of blood and momentum, she had just dragged it back to the land of the living.

All of his hype comes from his brothers, how good-looking he is or horny people who like smut-filled books. His brothers are just as famous as him. His eldest brother, Christian Crown runs a few strands of clubs and hotels. The middle brother, Khalil Crown is the maker and designer of the Crown. A car luxury brand, which became as popular as BMWs, Teslas, Lamborghinis, Mercedes and other car brands in just its first year of being produced. Soon enough they became on the same level as Rolls Royce, Lambos and other luxury cars. I do have to admit Crown cars are sexy as fuck.

I wanted to squeal at the top of my voice, but the words were stuck in my throat. "We also got something else," he said to me. He flicked his eyebrows, gesturing for me to look to the side. I turned my eyes towards Sera. They rattled in utter confusion, and my face asked all the questions. Just before the questions could slip from my lips, she drew out an object from her dress. It was a crown, made out of thorns, looking small and aged, but incredibly powerful. "Is that..." "The Crown of Thorns? Yes, it is..." Sera took the words off my lips with a bright laughter.

Just wind. And silence. Behind her: the crown—no longer gold, but forged in obsidian and bullet casings. It wasn’t worn. It was placed—on a pedestal. A symbol. She didn’t need it on her head. Because the world had already bent its knees. ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — FINAL ENTRY OF THE CITADEL ERA “I did not inherit an empire. I burned the ashes and named the smoke.” “I did not want their crown. I broke it, reforged it, and left it behind.”

1. The Shadow Crown Burns The Shadow Crown sat heavy on Ava’s head, colder than steel, yet thrumming with heat that pulsed beneath her skin. It wasn’t a crown forged by goldsmiths or royal decrees. It was made of blood. Of betrayal. Of truths too old to be remembered. As the altar burned with fireless flame, the world tilted. The five heirs knelt before her—but Rowan’s bow was slower, his movements hollow. His gaze never left hers.

The coronation day dawned bright and still, as if even nature itself paused to witness this pivotal moment in history. My reflection in the ornate mirror shimmered with threads of gold and crimson, the ceremonial robes of the Lycan Queen wrapping around me like destiny itself made manifest. The silver circlet gleamed atop my brow not ostentatious, but elegant in its simplicity, a subtle reminder that though I wore the crown with pride, it had been forged in blood, loss, and the kind of sacrifice that leaves permanent marks on the soul.

"He took my life, my identity, and now he's living with my name, my degrees. How can I just let that go?" I gave his back a comforting pat and met his gaze. "In a few days, when the weird end of days rolls in, we'll make him pay." Jim gave a small nod, his skin cooling down, no longer fired by my blood. Right then, I noticed something odd, the weak Haunts that had barely any strength were suddenly frantically feasting on my leftover blood. Their once translucent bodies filled with vigor as they started to circle and swoop around me. "I've got a plan!"

I saw the man who once wrapped his arms around me during a storm, whispering that no one would ever hurt me again. The man who taught me that love wasn’t a weakness. It was the kind of strength that rebuilt worlds. An elder stepped forward, holding the twin crowns forged in silver and obsidian, marked with the crest of the Davenport bloodline. The Alpha crown. The Luna crown. The symbols of legacy, power… and unity. Knox took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. His palm was warm, steadying me even as my heart thundered. The elder raised his voice, his tone commanding, carrying across the entire courtyard.

It was for a purpose. This time, she would not die in the dark. This time, the crown would burn before it fell into another’s hands.

The echo around us dropped. It did not vanish completely, but it weakened sharply, as something had cut into its source. I felt it through the bond with Faye, the sudden strain, the flicker of instability. “What did you do?” I demanded, even as I kept moving. Korran’s eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to satisfaction. “This crown is older than your bloodline,” he said. “It was made to bind what you carry.” The words hit harder than any strike.