Ghost With Crown Novels & Stories

She waved her hands to her, pearl surrounds her arms. She hesitated, the pearls surround her head and then a little wing flew to her back. She looked at it, it stick in her back like it had glue. She turned to the woman, the wings flew her closer, closer, and closer to the woman. She saw how beautiful the woman was. She had a toga with white orchids decorating it. She had a Giant White Orchids in her head, arranged to form a crown. She smiled, and the ghosts cheered. She stopped in below the throne and she kneeled. She tilted her head to look down. Her crown almost falling off.

Kael drew his blade, but it shimmered and flickered, as if something were devouring its very essence. “These aren’t ghosts,” he muttered. “They’re souls. Bound.” At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal—and on it, a relic unlike anything Lyra had seen. It was a crown. But not of gold or silver. It was made of bone and black glass, the center holding a pulsing crimson stone. She stepped forward, transfixed. “This was made from the souls they stole,” she whispered. “I can feel them. Begging.” Kael’s voice was sharp. “Don’t touch it.”

The thing climbing out of Queen Amara’s grave wore a crown made of bone and gold. At first, that was all I could understand. Not its face. Not its body. Not the shape of whatever ancient horror was dragging itself from the split tomb like death had finally grown bored of waiting. Just the crown. Bone-white points, each one curved like a fang. Gold threaded through them in veins, old and tarnished, pulsing faintly with red light. It did not sit on the creature’s head.

She suddenly get her crown that she slowly picked all the pearls on it. The headmistress abruptly kick that woman’s back that causes her to kiss the floor and never got the chance to get rid all of the red pearls. Danie get her crown but she was froze in a moment and feel how her neck was strangling powerfully. The Queen put one red pearl that she picked on the floor on her head and it effectively causes her now to move freely. The crown was placed already in her head then the Queen makes a last statement saying, “Make sure you never did filthy things again. And I’m going to take after you all the mess you’re waiting for.” And that is when the Ghost-witch disappear herself.

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

The remaining ghosts retreated into the runes on the walls, not daring to utter a single whisper in the presence of their Queen. Killian stepped up beside me and sheathed his sword, a devastatingly proud smirk on his lips. He didn't ask if I was okay. Instead, he dipped his head in a gesture of absolute submission. "Brilliantly done, my Queen." At the end of the corridor, a pair of massive white stone doors, engraved with the sun, moon, and stars, slowly groaned open. Blinding, pure light spilled out from the cracks. The First Crown was waiting.

Adrian stopped. Jamie turned, heart pounding. “I just wanted you to know.” Adrian studied him, something raw flickering behind his eyes. “It should.” “Maybe,” Jamie said. “But it doesn’t.” Adrian stepped closer, close enough that Jamie could feel the warmth radiating off him. “That,” Adrian said quietly, “is exactly what scares me.” They stood there, suspended in the space between words and action, the city holding its breath around them. And somewhere deep beneath the surface, La Corona Nera shifted, aware that something fragile and dangerous had just been seen and couldn’t be unseen.

The black velvet inside framed something bright pink. A plastic crown. Gabby’s pink glitter crown. For a moment, no one spoke. “MY CROWN!” Gabby screamed so loudly the tiny hammer in my head went back to working overtime. She reached for it with both hands. “Easy,” I said. Kendra picked up the crown first and inspected it. “Oh.” “What?” I asked. She turned it toward the light. The crown was clean. No chocolate smudges from Al’s hands. No dust from the grounds at Villa Miravento. The underside, which had been slightly sticky yesterday because Gabby once tried to repair it with lip gloss, wasn’t sticky anymore either.

The car doors swung open in unison, and a stream of figures in black poured into the banquet hall. Beneath their jackets, the subtle outlines of guns hinted at danger, a chill of menace in the air. A bodyguard with utmost respect opened the door of the central stretch limo. William Vincent, the iron-fisted ruler of Northland's shadowy corners, clad in a sleek black trench coat, walked over the glittering carpet of broken glass towards me. He was the man behind the mysterious calls, my mentor in all things firearms, my ace in the hole. William dropped to one knee before me, indifferent to the shards of glass slicing through his pricey pants.