Mumford Sons Broken Crown Novels & Stories

“You’d think we were summoning ancient spirits with all this ceremony.” Jarvis chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I know, right? She acts like we’re performing some ancient magic that requires absolute precision. It’s just a way to honor our ancestors, not a spell to conjure werewolf spirits.” Their banter was interrupted by Sevena’s voice, clear and commanding. “Silence,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “This ritual is a sacred tradition that must be observed with the utmost respect.” Jarvis and Liberty exchanged a knowing look, their amusement tempered by a sense of reverence for the solemnity of the occasion. They knew better than to push their mother too far, es

“Y-Your Majesty, H-Her Highness is still…” She could not bring herself to finish her statement because she felt like her tongue had been paralyzed in its place. Despite just finishing her tea, her throat felt dry and the words she wanted to say just would not come out. Of course, she was happy because it seemed that there was still a ray of hope for her to leave the spot of being simply his royal concubine. However, would she really be able to change her title? That question remained in her mind. “Emery has broken a lot of rules even though she is just here for a few days. Though that kind of reason is not strong enough to depose her, I can also get her cooperation since she told me before t

I didn't know when that question spewed out of my mouth, or when exactly I had started to harbor such Ill intentions toward my sister. But they were there, at the back of my mind. "His majesty is going through a phase, it happens once every month and lasts for three days." She said, tossing the bloody rag into a nearby bucket. "Once it happens, he cannot control his thirst for blood and ends up slaughtering the first human he lays hands on. You're insanely lucky and the first human to have survived his majesty's bloodlust." Penelope explained, rising from my side. A wave of relief washed over me once she was halfway across the room, it looked to me like Penelope was exercising a great deal o

I’ll shatter it before dawn, and I’ll make her thank me for it. ═══════⊹⊱♚⊰⊹═══════ What Awaits Author’s Note: You’ve met the firebrand. You’ve seen the king fracture. Now—watch the tower burn. Midnight Crown is a dark romance built on crime, obsession, betrayal, and slow-burn war between two people who should have destroyed each other—but didn’t. Because control is never clean, and neither is love. You’ll drown in silence and secrets as the story unfolds through four arcs:

I yelled. With that, the car sped off in the distance. I started walking down the dark dirt road not knowing where I was. I plugged in my earphones and tried to block out my fear. Mrs. Potato head by Melanie Martinez Started to play. 'If you weren't born with it you can Buy a couple ornaments. Just be sure to read The warning kids, cause pretty soon you'll be Bored of it.' I sang along as tears started to form in my eyes. Yeah I told him to let me out but he didn't actually have to do it. And the worst part is. He didn't even care if I were to be gone.

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.

Only Caelan Frost could call a royal relic inadequate. Clara noticed the movement. “What is that on your hand?” Marcus seized my wrist before I could pull away. The grip bit hard enough to bruise, but his attention had already fixed on the ruby and the Frost Dragon crest etched along the band. For a brief moment, doubt crossed his face. “A good imitation.” Clara latched on to that answer with relief. “Yes. Of course. It has to be fake.” Marcus turned the ring on my finger, his thumb scraping over the crest.

she countered. “If you want to win the crown, you have to work hard like the other girls. There's no shortcut in becoming the Luna Queen,” Came his passive reply. “Is that why you have scars all over your body, your pack wants you to win badly that they don't care about hurting their own,”

Mission accepted. My jewellery is onyx and silver, dark and glossy against my skin. Finally, Mum places the black crown gently on my head. It’s made of delicate metal vines and onyx stones, shaped to look like it grew right out of the shadows. And it completes me. I don’t just look like a queen—I look like his queen. “You’re absolutely stunning,” Mum says, adjusting the crown like she’s placing it on actual royalty. “Caden’s going to pass out.” “Good,” I smirk. “Let the man suffer.”

At the Crown. The wild energy – chaotic, vibrant, born of unchecked growth and desperate survival – slams into the circlet of absences. Not negation. Life. Unruly, explosive, seething life. The Crown of devoured realities… shudders. The compressed screams within it resonate, clash with the Garden’s furious song. For a fractured second, the voids flicker, unstable. Then… it shatters. Like glass. Like a universe breaking. Jagged shards of pure, conceptual unmaking explode outwards. Not physically. Psychically. Cosmos-wide.