Red Blood Throne นิยาย & เรื่องราว

I have feelings to consider, to understand and to feel that I just waited for someone that I deserve their love and deserves mine. I just bumped into someone who's fine-looking, he's named Articus Lawson. My future husband, the one that I am looking for. A tall guy with high regard to everyone. You kissed my forehead while laying down at your limb, you're holding a red thread and you tied it to our pinky fingers and asked, " You know this?" I looked at your dazzling eyes but I have no clue what it was for. " It is the Red ​Thread of Fate". I just closed my eyes. It was the last that I saw you and I couldn't ever open my eyes again. My last tears touched you, hope in our next life I can abut

Silas stared at the three guys in front of him. "According to this book written by our ancestors and kept by the Queen and King, Red Woods is the last empire of living vampires nowadays. In short, we are the last vampires standing. Decades ago, Red Woods is divided into five regions: Auburn of North, Cerise of East, Vermillion of Metropolis, Carmine of West, and Carnelian of South. We are now at Vermillion." He flipped the book, showing the map to Jet and Raze while pointing at the regions.

The moon bleeds red over Hollowshade tonight, its crimson light seeping through the stained glass windows of my throne room like spilled wine. I can taste the shift in the air bitter, metallic, carrying the scent of approaching storm and the copper tang of violence yet to come. It's like the moment before a blade is drawn, when the world holds its breath and waits for the first drop of blood to fall.

*"The Crown is not for mortal hands." Kelly stepped forward, Nyxara's shadows curling at her fingertips. "We're not here to steal. We're here to *bargain*." --- **RHYDIAN'S POV** The fen was a battlefield of teeth and treachery. Selene's wolves clashed with Rhydian, their eyes hollowed by the Threader's influence. Eden grappled with the seed, his veins alight as he fought to contain its pull. The Threader itself wove through the chaos, needle-fingers stitching the air into portals, its kin spilling forth.

The throne was built on the ashes of the seven humans who initiated the war and the skull of their leader mounted on top, a reminder of what's to come if the humans try to go to war with them again. Walking up to the throne, I pause and look at it, a remainder of all the responsibilities I had on my shoulders, the weight of the world. My crown rested on the armrest, gleaming under the sunlight filtering in from the windows, the crown has 10 gems, each representing a pack. With a sigh I sat on the throne and waited for the arrival of the humans as they were led in. Lyra walks in not long after offering me a curt nod then taking her sit in one of the four chairs in front of me.

The First King’s sigil. She set it on the nearest table, flipping through pages until she found what she was looking for. “Here.” Elior stepped closer, the others gathering around as Myrra read aloud. “To break the Throne is to break the Balance. The Chains of the Veil will shatter, and the Dark One shall rise again.” Silence. Elior’s pulse quickened. The Dark One. He didn’t need to say it. They all knew the name Erythos.

] I just pocketed my phone when a voice, both familiar and pretentious, rang out: "Welcome, everyone, to the wedding of Sebastian and me." I turned to see Sebastian, sharp in a tailored suit, standing by Rosa in her bridal gown, playing the perfect hosts. They stood before a rainbow archway, their oversized wedding portraits smiling down. Catching sight of me, Rosa rose on her toes and planted a kiss on Sebastian. The crowd erupted in whistles and cheers, and Sebastian, a bit sheepish, dabbed at his mouth. He glanced up without thinking, and our eyes locked in an unexpected standoff. Sebastian, caught off guard, shoved Rosa aside, his awkwardness bordering on comical.

The Imperial Palace. The Throne Room. Noon. The Dragon Throne sat atop a dais of black marble. It was a monstrosity of gold and rubies, shaped like a coiled serpent. For three hundred years, only the Thornes had sat there. Today, the doors opened for a new bloodline. Vespera walked down the long red carpet. Her boots—still muddy from the battlefield—left dark prints on the pristine wool. She wore her black riding leathers, her heavy cloak billowing behind her like a storm cloud.

She was like a vampire, hungrily draining my blood. I did not even think twice. I booted her off me like she was nothing but a dirty old rag. She sprawled by the door, panting like she had run a marathon. Her voice raspy as she cackled at me, "Bet you didn't see this coming, huh? Only the dead set for cremation get out of the morgue, and I was lying in wait, just thirsty for your blood, you little snake!" My blood fell to the floor and soaked into Jim, who was like a ghost. His see-through form turned a deep red, his eyes glowing with a fiery rage as he fixed his gaze on the key and the factory contract in my hand.

Hearing it spoken in the open air above the Atlantic gave it a different quality. Permanent was the word she kept arriving at. Not ending. Permanent. The crown of the Vael bloodline was a physical object smaller than she'd expected, old metal worn smooth by time, carrying nothing theatrical. Seren placed it on Caspian's head with the precise care of someone who had done this for three hundred years and understood that the object was less significant than the moment. He became, in that moment, what he had been becoming for a very long time. She watched it happen.