Ghost With Crown Novels & Stories

“Let’s finish you up. It’s almost time. Even in her early forties, Anna is good at applying makeup. She dabs some finishing touches of makeup before she puts on my jewelry. I touch the intricate carving of the pendant. It is shaped like a spiral that is adorned with thirty diamonds. At the center of the spiral is a bigger diamond than the rest with the purest color of diamond I have ever seen. There were three knocks on the door. Three knocks meant that the person was a royal guard. Anna excuses herself and heads for the door. “Your Highness, the King was just checking to see if you’re all set up for your coronation,” General Silverstone stands on the doorway and bows. “Shortly, General Silv

Adam lamented. “I’m just wondering if maybe we should get him inside and bolt the door. This might not be the safest place for him after all. She’s getting a might closer and some of those zombie spirits look like they’re coming back to life in a not too friendly way.” He studied the spirits who were once so animated but were now acting dazed and confused. A few of them were losing that dazed look. It was being replaced by one of intelligence and… Anger? Hate? He couldn’t tell.

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

"What the hell is that?" "Elena’s curse," Zephyr said, his voice tight and sharp as shattered glass. "She bound the Ashford Estate to her blood years ago. The moment the crown was claimed by a Primordial, the estate’s defenses turned on the thief. That mist is the Crimson Hunt—a magical hound bred from hatred and ancient magic. It will track us until it tears the crown from our heads or kills us trying." Ronan extended his claws, the steel of his fingers gleaming in the dying torchlight. "Great. We’re being hunted by ghosts. Fantastic."

asked Cynthia stuttering . " Yes and No ." said the crown softly . " Why am i here ?" asked Cynthia . " Because you ought to be here , this is your world , your home the place where you actually belong .I have been waiting for you for years ." said the crown . " I don't know what's happening , I came here before didn't i ?" asked Cynthia . " I suspect you did but that time it was in your head ." said the crown . " So this means this time it's real ... I .. am here in reality ." asked Cynthia .

"Yieeeeee yeah you don’t like him because he’s arrogant, he’s muscular, he has a pointed nose, he’s tall, and his lips looked so sweet. Yes Alaister you don't like him!" and with that she threw me a pillow Hahahaha. We talked about music and other kinds of stuff until Aunt Ana came with our food so we ate first. "Alaister do you believe in ghosts?" I asked Alaister, now that she was lying down in our bed. "Did you watch a horror movie last night? Then I would say that there are no ghosts and I do not believe in ghosts." Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that.

Althea fought her way back to Argos for Lysandros and helped him reclaim the throne, only to find herself trapped in the enemy kingdom of Thrace, wearing a slave's collar for three full years. Through three years of mortal danger, being dragged behind chariots, and bone-chilling winters, Althea survived on a single conviction: her betrothed, Lysandros, would come to rescue her. But when she finally set foot in the royal city again, what awaited her was not an embrace. It was a heavy golden laurel crown pressed against her brow, the Sacred Flame seal clutched in another woman's hand, and a royal heir growing in that woman's womb. She clung to one last hope: perhaps they had cast her aside onl

The engagement ceremony Sebastian orchestrated for me was held at St. Mary’s Cathedral, the most august landmark in the city. White roses carpeted the streets for miles, every petal steeped in the sweet fragrance of absolute power. I wore a bespoke, hand-stitched lace gown, its voluminous train borne by six bridesmaids. Sebastian stood at the altar, his gaze fixed on me with unashamed fervor and devotion. Just as the priest was about to administer the vows, the heavy oak doors of the cathedral were flung open.

Somehow she ended up in her car and on the road, with no memory of how she got there. The estate gates were wide open when she arrived. That was the first sign something was wrong, because those gates were never open. Elena drove through slowly. At least twenty black sedans and SUVs filled the driveway, and groups of men in expensive suits stood around talking in low voices. They all stopped and stared when she stepped out of her car. She didn’t recognize any of them, and their attention made her skin crawl.

Jason finally said and let out a bitter laugh, "you're trying to tell me that we're dealing with a god who missed his crown? One who is hell bent on drowning the world in water?" The chieftain smiled slightly, "that's one way to put it. Should the crown manage to find a host, then he might succeed. Only this time, the world might not drown in water… but rather in silence." The hairs on my body stood at his words, and I felt a cold shiver rush down my spine. The crown was looking for a host? Did that explain the whispers? The fact that they were so loud inside of my head? What if the crown saw me as a host?