Curse Of The Crimson Throne Novels & Stories

Aichonne smiles down at me, her eyes burning with that familiar, fierce starlight that has guided us through every nightmare, while our child slumbers peacefully against her chest, untouched by the sudden cosmic disturbance. For a glorious, unbroken moment, the crimson light in the north seems to recoil from our unified howl, dimming beneath the overwhelming radiance of our pack's collective spirit. We have claimed our destiny, united the kingdoms, and proven that no prophecy or curse can break the bonds of true devotion. The throne is ours, the war is won, and our future burns brighter than the winter snow. Yet, the celebration is cut brutally short as the atmospheric pressure drops with te

The youngest smiled, but it was the saddest smile I had ever seen. “Child,” the eldest whispered, and her voice echoed inside my bones. “You stand at the edge.” The middle sister finished for her. “Mating with the Blackthorn king will awaken what was meant to stay buried.” The youngest stepped closer, her fingers brushing the air between us. “The curse is not his alone. It is the throne itself. The Blackthorn hold on the seven realms was never meant to last.” I tried to speak, but my throat felt sealed. The mist swirled faster.

Like winter had been waiting in a locked room. “By igniting the silver fire to kill the Ice-Wyrm,” the Goddess warned, “you acted as a magical beacon.” Her physical form began to unravel, violently into mist. “You woke the old world. The continent across the Black Sea has felt your pureblood pulse. The Crimson Court knows you’re alive. And they are already here.” “Wait!” I shouted, pushing forward. “Who is the Crimson Court?” But the Goddess, kind of completely dissolved, left behind nothing at all except that echo of her last, haunting saying, “The blood-drinkers have come for the crown.”

⸻ The image darkened. The Crimson One stepped away from his brothers. ⸻ Toward a glowing object hidden beneath the earth. ⸻ A crystal. ⸻ Dark red. ⸻ Beautiful. ⸻ Wrong. ⸻ The moment he touched it— Everything changed. ⸻ The vision exploded. ⸻ Darkness spread across the world. ⸻ Cities burned. ⸻ Wars erupted. ⸻ Entire kingdoms fell. ⸻ The Crimson One watched it all with fascination.

I’d been playing the carefree king just as lady Margaret wanted. But today, one heartbeat, one twitch from that northern idiot, and I ripped a heart out in my own throne room like it was nothing. The taste of it still coated my tongue. Hot and addictive. Derek roared inside me, claws raking, demanding more. They called it the Throne’s Curse. Every wolf who sat on the black throne grew ten times more vicious once they tasted blood after a long drought. My father had lost control the night my mother died. He shifted in the middle of the great hall and tore through three hundred guards before the royal guard managed to chain him with silver and drag him to a room.

I picture him outside in the snow, coat collar up, not looking back. My chest hurts. He was supposed to protect me, not trade me like a bag of coins. I feel small, alone, cold without his hand, even if that hand only ever hurt. We stop in front of one box. A small lamp on the wall gives dim yellow light. I look at the door. My breath catches in my throat. A crest is carved deep in the wood. Black wolf. Snow around its paws. Stars above its head. The Morozov crest. Even a child knows it. Even I know it.

With that, the infant's disguise fell away completely, revealing the parasitic thing it truly was—a grotesque creature of writhing suckers and black, pulsing veins. "Finally..." Isolde cradled the monster, a crazed smile on her face. "If I can't have your love, then the entire clan can be food for my child! You all owe me this!" In a fit of rage, I blasted Isolde away and threw the demon-spawn into a sealing ward. But it was no use. The blood curse was already out of control. Without a powerful purification, the Crimson Court would soon be extinct. I stumbled back to my chambers, wanting one last look at Gracie before I died.

Hinugot ni Crimson ang kutsilyo mula sa pisnge nito. “Sweetie, you don't tell a psycho that they are a psycho.” She smiled sweetly. “It makes them mad.” Bulong nito. “Are you mad?” Tanong ko at agad naman siyang tumingin sa akin bago tumawa nang bahagya. “Oh, very.” Her smile faded as she gripped on Lore's neck tightly, choking her. “If you're so desperate to see Hellios, why don't you join him?” Nanggigigil na suhestiyon ni Crimson sa dalaga at pinagsasaksak ito sa leeg.

Those years of waiting for his arrival never seem to end. It’s been five years now. The alpha is yet to be found, neither could Imogen find a way to lift the curse nor did she forget how Braylon was swallowed by a dark shadow right in front of her eyes. She is yet to discover what that shadow was. And she will stop at nothing to look for a way to lift the curse. ***

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, their mother’s voice rose in a broken wail. “Carla! Don’t take one of my children. It’s just me… It’s just me. Don’t make them suffer!” The plea cut through the air like a knife, raw and pleading. Their mother’s eyes were wide with terror, her bound hands twisting against the ropes as she rocked back and forth. The name “Carla” hung in the room like a summoned ghost, a tangible thread linking the present torment to the sins of the past. Eloise and Elena exchanged a glance heavy with shared dread—the curse was stirring again, drawing closer, its tendrils reaching for what little they had left.