Red Blood Throne Novels & Stories

Golden hair for a golden girl. “The Red Throne is the reason we are at war at all,” Brendan reminds her gently. Somewhere, in between the political fanfare of alliances and betrothals and the attacks, Alcina had forgotten what had sparked it all: the Red Throne. That seat, which would grant the holder the keys to the entirety of The Ethereal Isles land, the House that holds the Red Throne, has historically been the House that would lead the Five Houses and their respective kingdoms. The throne that would rule them all.

"The reason this person is after you. Did you in any way fight with someone over the throne?" There was no one to fight with. My father was an only child and then he married my mother. The only person who could rule over Ordene was my sister, and she wouldn't fight me for it. As per right, I was the heir to the throne. Mirabel wouldn't hurt me for the throne. Heck, she wasn't even ready for it. "No. This person's motive isn't clear to me, so it's a little difficult to know why they're hell bent on making me suffer."

I said, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. A silence followed, stretching long enough to make the flickering torchlight feel louder than any sound. Then I heard her voice—a low, dangerous purr. “Rise, Thane,” she commanded. I lifted my head. She sat on the Crimson Throne, a massive chair carved from black stone streaked with dark red veins. Her hood was pushed back, revealing pale skin and eyes glowing a deep, menacing red. Strands of brown hair fell across her shoulders, and even sitting still, power radiated from her like heat.

--- Below Solara The Cradle of Crownless Thrones There is a place in Aetheria where no light dares crawl. Not because it cannot reach— Because it is not allowed. We call it a vault. It is not a prison. It is a graveyard. Nine thrones lie in that hollowed, bone-wrought pit. Burned, broken, scorched by betrayal. Cracked by prophecy. Soaked in the marrow of forgotten immortals. No name dares echo here. No song dares hum. But tonight— One throne stirs. Blackened antlers. Molten chain.

The key slid inside easily with a metallic groan. Beyond the gate, the air changed. Heavier. Charged. Shelves warped with age, scrolls bound in wolf hide, tomes inked in ancient bloodline dialects. There was something dark that pulled her inside. Her fingers trembled as she scanned the shelves until one title pulsed in the low firelight. "Prophecies of the Shattered Thrones." She opened it carefully. The parchment crackled. And there it was. A single passage written in red... "When the flame returns, crowned or chained, she shall awaken the power of her bloodline and bring the tyrant to his knees. She who bears the mark shall bind or break the cursed throne."

Why did they do it? Blood on the Throne. At the break of dawn, I was alone in the throne room again.' During sunrise, the twins were getting ready to speak about the country.' But then the air swept across the hall. Heavy clouds erupted, the torches flickered with blue. A message was written on the throne in ancient, fiery runes that conveyed one meaning: “THE BLOODLINE IS BROKEN.”. Before I could get up, the ground shook with unrest. Deep within the palace, a haunting howl was heard from below.

Even the two women draped across the arms of the throne were dressed in colors that disappeared into the dark around them. The man on the throne had red eyes. Not the temporary red of a vampire feeding or a wolf mid shift. A permanent red, deep and settled, the color of something that had been burning for a very long time and had no intention of stopping. A scar ran from his left cheekbone to the corner of his jaw, old and clean, the kind of scar that comes from something specific on a specific night that the person who left it did not survive long enough to remember. It did not diminish him. Nothing about him was diminished. He was beautiful in the way that certain dangerous things are beau

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.

“Anyway… I might be the next Alpha.” His words hit me like a shockwave. “What? Why?” I manage, my voice trembling. “I have Alpha blood,” he explains, standing taller. “It would only be natural when I turn eighteen. Kenneth didn’t have an heir, and his only siblings are your mother and her sister Sara. His twin brother Maxwell is dead. And your mother only has daughters.” I’m still reeling. “Even though your father is second in command, the council voted against it…” I add quietly, knowing that must have displeased him.

The honor a knight earns in battle, defense for the weak, and even standing bravely where no one will and can. THE CROWN. A royal blooded title, pride, and the entirety of their lives deal, where their world revolves and is only known for. Taken as the highest in the towering pedestal of their lives, it is the throne where blood and sins were covered. With its brightness and fame as the ruler and ruling stance of their lives, it is the dark and menacing life that only cares for power and luxury, that even the purest one can be tainted with its darkness.