Red Blood Throne Novels & Stories

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.

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.

“Moon blessed and battle born. The throne is yours.” Aria, no, Ariya—lifted her chin and answered without hesitation. “I accept the crown.” A sound rose up from the circle of wolves surrounding the platform. Howls. Loud and layered, echoing into the sky. But beneath the celebration, something else stirred. A chill in the air. A shadow moving just behind the torchlight. Then, she saw him. Standing behind the empty throne, his dark cloak rippling. His eyes caught the light, not silver like Kael’s, but glowing red.

She held it high. “This crown is not forged of lies,” she said, her voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. “It is forged of blood, of sacrifice, of the people who still remember the House of Vale. And I will not stand by while a vulture feeds on a throne built for stars.” Thalric descended the steps, each stride like thunder. “Pretty words for a girl who hid while kingdoms bled. Where was your crown when soldiers died on the Black Hollow fields? Where was your oath when rebellion tore villages to shreds?”

Sleep pulled me under before I could answer him. --- The throne room formed around me slowly, stone pillars stretching upward into darkness that seemed to swallow whatever light should have filled the space. A man sat upon a throne carved from black stone, draped in a cloak so dark it seemed to drink in the shadows around him rather than reflect them. His skin held the pallor of something that hadn't seen sunlight in centuries, and when he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes glowed a deep, unnatural red. "Who are you?"

Nora picked up the folded paper. She didn't open it. She held it. "You want the throne," she said. "Yes." "And you want me to trust you." "Yes." "Those two things are going to conflict at some point." "Probably," he said. "When they do, I'll tell you." He held her gaze without wavering. "I want the throne through legitimate succession. If Caspian fulfills the anchor requirement and succeeds, the succession is his by right and I'll accept that." He paused. "What I won't accept is the succession being built on an arrangement that's being managed dishonestly. But then. if the anchor is being kept in the dark about the terms of her own arrangement