Full Cast High Noble Metal Crown Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Actually, not enough. I brought something to add to the look" One of the soldiers followed him into the room with a large box. I just look at him, confused. He pulls the top of the box off, and I gasp. There, on a purple velvet pillow, is a delicate and intricate platinum crown with diamonds and moonstones. "I had this made the first week the ceremony started. I wanted to give it to you when you were announced as Luna Queen. You couldn't be here for that, but you can wear it now as you take back what is yours".

“Princess Deloris, will you uphold the customs and duties of the crown?” I nod my head. “I will.” The same voice booms again and snaps me yet again to attention. “Princess Deloris, do you accept the crown?” Again, I nod. “I do.” A couple of clergy step forward. One puts the crown on my head, while the other places the royal golden egg with my family’s crest in my hand. My eyelids again dip, but a slight pain in my shoulder has me whipping my eyelids wide open again.

Bring forth the Royal Sovereign Jewels, Thorne commanded, stepping to the center of the dais with a massive velvet cushion bearing the ancient crown of solid silver and iron, glowing with a fierce, majestic light under the chandeliers. Dominic reached down, lifting the crown. He turned to Valerie, his dark eyes burning with a deep, possessive pride. It is time, my Queen. Let the world see who rules them. Valerie smiled, but before Dominic could place the crown on her head, she reached into the deep pocket of her ceremonial gown. She pulled out a small, metallic object, an old, heavily scratched, and scarred stethoscope, its rubber tubing worn down from her years of working in the dark dirt o

I simply didn't know what it was yet. "I don't understand the question," I replied after a long pause, keeping my voice steady. "I'm Aurelia Ashbourne. I received an invitation to enroll here, just like every other student." The Headmaster watched me in silence, his golden eyes revealing nothing. For several uncomfortable seconds, no one spoke. Finally, he walked toward the enormous window overlooking the academy grounds and clasped his hands behind his back. "Ordinary students do not cause the Crown Marks to resonate," he said quietly. "Nor do they release an unknown energy capable of overwhelming three Crown Kings simultaneously." His words caused Kael to straighten slightly, while Lucian

The hallway outside was crowded. Servants whispered excitedly, and elders smiled among themselves. The door opened, and the pack healer stepped outside. His face was brighter than I’d ever seen it. “Congratulations, Alpha. The Moon Goddess has blessed the pack. She is carrying your heir.” He announced. For one heartbeat, the entire world became perfectly still. Then cheers erupted around me. The elders clapped each other on the shoulders. Servants laughed through happy tears. Warriors lifted their fists in celebration. “Our future Alpha!”

“Do you accept the burden of Luna—not as decoration, but as shield?” Her voice did not tremble. “I accept.” The elder nodded solemnly. The simple silver tiara was gently removed from her head. For a moment, her hair fell freely around her shoulders. Then another elder stepped forward holding the crown. It was not subtle. Large. Diamond-studded. Silver and white gold intertwined like vines, the central stone catching the moonlight in a blaze of brilliance. A symbol not of beauty—but of power. As it was lowered onto her head, a murmur rippled through the gathered crowd.

“I want you honest.” She turned to Vow again. “And what happens if the Crown lies?” There was a beat of silence. Then—for the first and last time—Triarch Vow spoke. “If the Crown lies,” the voice rasped through the hood, genderless and sharp as glass, “then the city burns.” Later, in a room without screens, without files, without exits—he handed her a coat. Black. Fitted. Cut like armor. “You’re inside now,” Domenik said. “You dress like it.”

And for a few fragile hours, it almost succeeded. Gregory Forstfang stood upon the raised dais as the final rites were spoken, his posture flawless, his expression carved into something unreadable and cold. He wore the crown as though it had always belonged to him—dark metal etched with runes old as the Fenraen themselves—and the formal mantle of kingship draped his shoulders with ceremonial weight. A temporary spell lay over him like a second skin, carefully woven by the High Priestess at his side, its magic subtle and precise. Where corruption had crept like black fire along his neck and jaw, the spell smoothed flesh and shadow alike, hiding the truth beneath an illusion of unblemished ski

From the shadows of the Spire's arched doorway, Varkas emerged. The Elder walked onto the balcony, his pristine white mantle trailing behind him, flanked by a dozen Refined Enforcers in their iridescent suits. Varkas carried a cushion of woven hard-light silk. Resting on the cushion was the Crown of the Iron Barrens—a delicate, breathtaking circlet forged from pure kinetic silver and inlaid with glowing pink hard-light crystals. Varkas stopped beside Jack. He looked out over the sea of kneeling, pacified men, his steel eyes gleaming with absolute, total victory.