Romans & histoires Hades Crown

"But this guy rarely speaks; when he does, it always comes true. I'm afraid there really are zombies!" Chad was stunned and instinctively activated his Clairvoyant Eye. Then, he froze. It was the first time he had ever seen someone with an immortal crown that could only be seen through the Clairvoyant Eye. Behind the lunatic's head was something like a rainbow, seven immortal crowns, each in a different color. It was obvious that Sir Holt and Zayan were unaware of that. "My son can't die in vain! Even if he wronged Micah's granddaughter, he can't die for nothing!"

Suddenly, there it was - amidst the riotous weather and foreboding wilderness - a shimmering glint caught my eye. Through the heart of the storm, nestled between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak was the Alpha's Crown, gleaming with an ethereal light that cut through the darkness. The Alpha's Crown – a legendary artifact of our kind, imbued with the collective strength of countless leaders. It was said to hold the essence of every pack leader who'd ever worn it. Now, it sat nestled between twisted roots, caught in the spectral dance of lightning that fractured the darkness every few moments. The crown was an intricate weave of silver and gold, studded with rare gems that glowed with ethere

Nora looked at the glowing face of Orion and clasped her hands together. “So… The people of Aradia Kingdom. I … present you the crown prince, Mr. Orion Ironheart, and request him to touch the precious stone before taking the oath and wear the silver crown also known as the Promise crown. It’s a promise that we will follow his future commands and it's also a promise that he will always prefer his kingdom over everything.” The podium was shaking due to the deafening cheering and clapping. It was an outdoor ceremony so that maximum people could attend it.

I looked up and admired the Hall. The summit was being held in the Hall of Accord. The Hall of Accord stood like a crown upon the brow of the city, a towering bastion of stone and ancient craftsmanship. Its sheer size dwarfed the surrounding buildings, each of its walls forged from colossal slabs of granite veined with silver and obsidian, shimmering faintly in the sun. Spires pierced the sky like the spears of titans, while vast banners emblazoned with the sigils of long-forgotten kings and enduring alliances fluttered high above the battlements. Massive archways, wide enough for a war host to pass through, marked the hall’s entrances, their keystones carved with runes older than the city

Aameris spoke almost in a whisper, but everyone in the room heard him. The three couples kissed, then turned to look at the crowd. Lindaat started to glow, and a crown appeared on her head. Twisted silver and bronze metals looking like a tree being held by silver roots. Around the crown, small diamonds rose, looking almost like trees. When she turned to look at Teleraamon, he had a circlet of the same silver and bronze on his head. Ailive gasped when a crown appeared on her head, with a solid silver band with sapphires around the edges that looked almost like tears. Dakkaath had a circlet of silver with a hint of bronze in it. Xylia smiled brightly at the two, then felt something on her head

A sleek black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me, its tires cruelly splashing a wave of muddy water from a puddle, soaking me to the skin. The car door swung open, and Nolan stepped out, his bodyguards forming a tight circle around him. His eyes locked onto the urn cradled in my arms, and for a moment, he froze, then his face twisted with anger. "Lena was right. You're really going all out with this charade, even getting yourself an urn to play the part in this rain!" He grabbed the urn from me and hurled it to the ground. I felt a surge of rage. Ignoring the pain racking my body, I dove for the urn and, thankfully, caught it just in time.

I stared at him for a second, then took it slowly, already annoyed because if this was another attempt at convincing me of this nonsense, I was about to lose whatever patience I had left. Then I looked at the screen. And just like that, everything in my head went completely still. The headline was bold. Too bold and looks too real. Alexandra Fisher Hale the queen of the business world is pregnant and to be married to Jacob Grey. I blinked. Once. Twice. Then I looked up at Dada. “What the actual fuck?” The words came out before I could even stop them, because at this point, manners were the least of my concerns. Because what?

“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.”

“I know.” A small, breathless smile curved his mouth. “And I love you too,” she whispered. Below them, the lake caught the light and held it, and the forest around it carried that warmth inward—through root and stone, through corridor and heart—until it reached the quieter halls of the palace, where another choice waited with equal patience. Corren stood alone in the Hall of Roots, the Verdant Crown resting upon its living pedestal. It was not forged by fire but shaped by time—wood veined with gold, leaves eternally green along its arch. The chamber smelled of earth and rain, ancient and steady.