Ghost With Crown Novels & Stories

And I refused to sever the man I loved. So I looked for the fourth option. I looked at the ghosts. They were still there, trapped beneath the fallen crystal, their ashen bodies flickering in the gaps between the rocks. They weren't just memories. They were debt. They were the energy the Council had stolen across four hundred years. The Widow was using Kael to anchor the world. I was going to use the ghosts to anchor the gift. I pressed my marked palm against the cold, transparent skin of Kael’s chest.

Fifty-six minutes remained before the final sweep. He pulled his heavy black coat tighter around his massive shoulders, his face returning to that unyielding, terrifying mask of stone. He had successfully penetrated the absolute center of the empire, but as he stepped out of the gatehouse and into the freezing downpour, he knew he wasn't going back to the light unchanged. The Ghost had finally taken the throne, and the throne was made of bone.

“The witch is dead, her blood is gone, my father’s lab is next, we burn it, we break the rest of his work, you get your minds back.” Murmurs. Hope. Draven steps to me, careful. “The crown,” he says. “Can you take it off.” I touch it. It burns. “I don’t know.” “Try,” he says. “For me.” I pull. Pain rips through my skull, and the crown comes away, blood on the tines. It crumbles to ash in my hand. The ferals gasp, some falling, some crying, as if a string got cut.

“If the wolf is this strong—” “He is not the problem,” Crowe interrupted softly. “He is the symptom.” He wiped his hand clean on the altar cloth. The crimson smear bloomed bright against white linen, a mockery of holy things. “The problem,” he said, “is the woman he follows.” “The vampire?” Crowe looked toward the stained glass window that no longer had glass—only rain and morning fog peering in. “The ghost of New York,” he said. “Silver Belmot.” The name came out almost reverent.

The entire team started panicking as they saw mindless beasts surrounding them from every direction. However, they soon noticed something surprising. The only thing on the ghouls' minds was the crown that was hovering above the angelic woman's head. Right now they were only 50 meters away from the angelic giant. The fact that each ghoul's tongue was rattling in unison with the rhythms emanating from the crown was even more mysterious. One sole rhythm swayed every ghoul in the wasteland. It seemed as if all these beasts were being drawn towards the crown, like the unwary sailors being lured by the lullaby of sirens.

I began to chant as I felt the blood of Ares mixing with my own until I could feel his power coursing through my veins. I lift my hand and outstretched it until my long black fingernail was technically touching the barrier around the clearing. I watch as the tip of my nails began to bend until it melt. I smirked before retracting my hand. "Ester darling, I see you are not happy that I am visiting you today." I spoke and summoned one of my crows. This one name was Ghost, he had a liking for lost souls that lingered on earth.He could spot them quickly, something I have used him for occasionally when I want to suck some of the souls power. There is nothing more delicious than a wandering soul.

Ghosts of the Crown The silence in the city was not peaceful—it was the kind that screamed under the skin. Cradle’s breath caught as she stared up at the statue, horror blooming like frost across her spine. The carving of her severed head in Kael’s hands wasn’t just a warning. It was a memory. Or worse… a prophecy. Kael stood frozen before the monument. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. The crown carved onto his stone head wasn’t the one from the Lycan throne room. This crown was older, jagged, like it had been forged from broken blades.

Ghost looked up from the floor to see that Calisté was standing right in front of him. "Come on, Calisté," Ghost muttered. "You've been away for an eternity. Help me up at once. Your king commands you." Calisté looked at him on the floor and shook her head. "For someone in his dying moments, you do have a lot of courage. You are no king, Ghost." She bent down and removed the crown from his head and crushed it with her bare hands. She allowed the golden powder drop from her hand down to Ghost on the floor.

Maxim faltered. The night thickened. Shadows stretched too far, swallowing corners of the ruin that should have been visible. The Hollow’s whispers slithered at the edges of his mind, wrapping around her voice, echoing it until he could no longer tell which words were hers and which belonged to the abyss. The crown devours… the crown devours… He pressed both hands to his skull, teeth bared. His men were still by the fire, unaware of the vision that drowned their leader. He was alone in this battle, fighting a ghost that might never have been.

I reminded him of that. Mark’s laughter filled the room, "You pull her brand under Crownwell & Brooks, and not only will sales explode, the old men on your father’s board will have no choice but to acknowledge you.” he added and I smiled. But even as he said it, my mind wandered to that final, elusive woman—the one CEO no one could seem to pin down easily. She had built a brand with ruthless speed, but stayed hidden from the spotlight, a ghost among giants. She's a mystery and the last key to my throne. Am never missing this opportunity.