Flaming Crown Novels & Stories

Her brows were slightly frowned as she was understanding why he was being too considerate or was it not considerate? The Flaming Red Fire of Lava is a very powerful sword that can kill thousands of people with one swift move. It can even end hundreds of lives of monsters. It was so strong that everyone wanted it, but it came to an end when Vailan, when he was still a Crown Prince, got it out of accident and no one has seen its appearance after that.

“Today, Calliyah and I are excited to share with you our research on the Enchanted Moonflower, a flower steeped in mystery and legend.” “The Enchanted Moonflower,” Calliyah continued, “is a nocturnal bloom that only unfurls its petals under the soft glow of the full moon. Its ethereal beauty is enhanced by its shimmering silver petals, which seem to dance in the moonlight, casting a spell of enchantment on those who behold it.”

she smirks. She had licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge she ever burned, she feared no hell for she tasted it and ruled it. >>REALITY<< Roxanne jerked awake with a startle and instantly, a cry of pain decamped her lips; her hand automatically went up to her head to put the pounding in her head to a halt but her beclouded vision immediately zoomed in on her surroundings, and quickly, the stabbing feeling in her head dematerialized and her vision cleared just as quickly.

“Holy shit. What is that?” She doesn’t seem to notice anything as she tilts her head to Saint with a sweet smile and her hand outstretched for him. Her cheeks are rosy from the chilled air, creating an odd discrepancy from her ivory skin, white hair, and white eyes. Above Kas is what I can only describe as a crown floating a few inches over her head. The crown looks like it’s on fire. No. It looks like it’s made of fire. It’s composed of black flames that turn purple as it licks into the night sky and come into five points that remind me of spires burning tall in the night air. The one in the front center is the tallest. Each point emits colored smoke: scarlet red, golden yellow, silvery gra

Flame returned like breath to a corpse. The crown of bone gleamed faintly in her hand, throwing its own pale light. Amara traced one jagged edge with her thumb. Each shard carried a story—a warlord who’d betrayed her, a capo who’d sold her secrets, a friend who’d turned her heart into ash. Damien Nero had forged it from her sins, and she could almost admire the cruelty. Almost. She lifted the crown to her head.

Here the pack members still believed in the process of leadership through an ancient ritual - The Crowning of The Alpha Naturale. She was only ten when she was crowned. She wasn’t even supposed to be. She was just a pup. Every eligible he and she-wolf had dropped their blood into the crowning flame that fateful night, but the flame had refused to shine bright. But then one of the oldest pack members spoke up. “The crowning flame knows no years, The crowning flame knows no tears. The crowned is one with a soul so bright, Plunged in a curse to douse every speck of light.

The Flaming Phoenix exploded with a boom, and terrifying purple flames engulfed the surroundings. Miserable screams echoed through the starry sky as tens of thousands of the experts of the Fiends and Blood race were refined into nothingness by the purple flames. A flaming man rushed out from the exploding purple flames. He was the Fifth Fiend Supremacy. His whole body was charred like a burnt crow. His hair was messy, and the jade crown on his head had gone. Right now, Fifth Fiend Supremacy was in an incredibly sorry state. However, Fifth Fiend Supremacy was still terrifying. After suffering so many heavy blows, even though his body was in tatters, his cracked head still healed.

Twisted, Formed something solid. A crown. Made entirely of white fire. Floating above Lyra's head. Pulsing with her heartbeat. The power inside her calmed. Stopped churning. Flowed into the crown instead. Contained, controlled, given form. The flames died down. The crown remained. Hovering, burning, beautiful and terrible. Lyra stood in the circle, breathing hard. The crown cast white light across her face. Made her eyes glow. One silver, one shadow. Both reflecting the Crownfire.

Harp added, seeing what Old Noll's bones felt before the rest of us could squint: the smaller sloop tucked in the brig's lee, flying a crown pennant like a man wears a borrowed coat. The brig was new enough to smell like pride and debt. Her name, neat as a clerk's signature, glittered on her stern: Honoria. She ran close-hauled like she knew she looked well-washed. She turned her lady's face toward us and lifted a trumpet. "Gilded Wraith!" A perfected voice carried over water with the entitlement of paper. "Heave to for inspection. By authority of the crown and House Morcant's mercantile rights." "See?" Jas said. "Papers and morals in the same bed."

The color drained from his lips, and his hand started to tremble so much the paper crinkled. "This... this says the Flame isn't a person," Finn whispered. He looked up at me, his eyes wide. "It says the Flame is a debt." "Keep reading," I urged. "‘The crown is not a gift, but a cage,’" Finn read aloud, his voice cracking. "‘The blood of the innocent is the oil for the lamp. When the King fails, the land withers, not because he is holy, but because he has stolen the life of the soil.’"