Novel & Cerita Ivory Throne Book

I said, quickly changing the subject. "Yes, we do. Does anyone have a suggestion on where to start?" Braxton asked. I saw Thane hook his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the books on the desk. "I vote we do some reading." I nodded, then stood up and approached the desk. They all looked very old, but I was drawn to one book in particular. I picked up the black, heavily used book that was titled Demon Hierarchy. I then turned back around and sat back down. I felt as if I was in a trance as I opened the book. All the noises in the background all faded away. I was pulled into my thoughts as I scanned the pages. I blinked a couple of times and when I looked up from the book I saw an enormous

I felt eyes following me from the balconies above, but none dared challenge me. When I reached the throne room, two figures already awaited him. Ivy, dressed in silk black as midnight, reclined lazily in her throne, her lips painted the color of fresh blood. Valentina stood beside her, sharp and commanding, her silver eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. “You’re late,” Valentina said, voice like polished steel. I offered a careless bow,my crimson gaze gleaming. “I bring you something worth waiting for.”

In the dream, I stood in a throne room that seemed to be carved from the very fabric of the cosmos, the floor beneath my bare feet wasn't stone, but a swirling galaxy of silver and violet dust, ahead of me, three massive thrones sat upon a dais of translucent grey. To the left, a throne of Ivory pulsated with a dying, frantic heat, Kaelen’s seat, it was cracked, golden light leaking from its fissures like blood from a wound, to the right, a throne of Onyx stood cold and unyielding, Koran’s seat, but it was the middle throne that drew me, it was a seat of shifting smoke, neither light nor dark, but a perfect, terrifying balance of both. And sitting upon it was a figure.

Erin chuckled, and Agustin simply grinned. “I wish.” They shared a laugh, and Erin wrapped his arms around Agustin’s shoulders, remarking, “You’ll have to grow up first before you can sit on the throne,” gesturing towards their grandfather and Uncle Vernon’s majestic seat. Agustin stared at the throne and asked, “Should I? Do I deserve the throne?” He looked at his Uncle Erin, smiling.

The Heart of Reality. 💔 There had never been a fourth. Or so they believed. ⸻ 🌙 The Forgotten Throne The book revealed another memory. 🌙 Ancient ruins appeared around them. A massive palace. Larger than kingdoms. Built from black crystal. 🖤 Four thrones stood inside. Not three. Four. 👑👑👑👑 The first belonged to the King. The second to the Guardians. The third to the Heart. And the fourth…

Anrina was strapped tightly to the interrogation chair. "Leon! I was the one who helped you take the throne! You can't do this to me!" Leon crouched in front of her and slowly flipped open the diary, holding each page up for her to see. "You helped me? "You stole her achievements. And you got her, and my child was killed." Anrina instantly collapsed to her knees, smashing her forehead against the floor as she begged for mercy. Leon leaned against the wall and watched in silence, his face completely unreadable.

I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm the frantic bird beating against my ribs. "Announcing Crown Princess Thalia!" the knight bellowed, the title feeling like a borrowed gown. The heavy doors swung wide. The throne room was an abyss of marble and light. Colossal pillars, like the bones of ancient giants, supported a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Light from the towering arched windows shattered against the thousand crystals of the chandeliers. And in the center of the vast emptiness, on a raised dais, sat the throne. My father always made his advisors stand.

The moment we both settled— Power moved through the room. A low hum echoed beneath the music. The guests murmured in surprise. And then two smaller thrones rose from the floor. One beside mine. One beside Sol’s. They were not toys. Not decorative additions. Real thrones. Perfectly crafted, scaled smaller but no less intricate than our own. Mine shimmered with soft dark metal veined in violet light. Sol’s gleamed gold with delicate vines curling along its edges. My breath stopped. No one spoke. I could not.

Caspian asked. No. "Yes," I said. The doors opened. The throne room stretched before us, packed wall to wall. Noble houses. Warriors. Servants. Common folk. And at the far end, the Obsidian Throne. Beside it, something new. A second throne. Carved from white stone that seemed to glow. The Queen's Throne. Mine. We walked forward. Every step echoed in the sudden silence. The High Priestess waited, holding a crown of silver and moonstone.

She gestured toward the far end of the hall, and I followed it— To a raised dais. I hadn’t noticed it in the frantic fight. At the far end of the gallery, beyond the broken window, a smaller **throne** sat: less dramatic than the one I’d glimpsed in my half-written drafts, but unmistakable High‑backed, carved, with veins of dark wood running through it like dried blood. DON’T BLEED ON THE THRONE, the rule on the wall had said. “And where is that?” Corvin asked, voice flat.