Red Blood Throne Novels & Stories

“Stop acting cool. You are one of the enemies I have, and you know that.” Before I could say more than one word, I felt a surge of energy in me. I shut my eyes as I was unable to get over it. It was stronger than that of a beta like him. “I felt this surge of energy when I woke up in the hospital. It's an Alpha energy and not a Beta." I thought and opened my eyes. “I believed it was Prince Kelvin—and Tyrion is a Beta and not an Alpha.” I blinked as he took away his palm from my body….his perspirations dropping on the floor.

The Education Wing: A study curated with texts on political negotiation, financial mastery, and warfare strategy—because battle was fought with minds before weapons. Interactive rooms for training—not childish distractions, but simulations designed for decision-making, for understanding consequence. Hand-selected mentors—chosen for their brilliance, their influence, their ability to shape a future ruler. Leonardo stood beside me as we observed the modifications, his presence unwavering as he reviewed the changes. “We’re creating more than a life for him,” he murmured, tracing his fingers along the edge of the blueprint. “We’re creating power before he’s even old enough to claim it.”

North patted her hand quickly to share her joy. “Milo, as in the bloody second prince to the Haedran throne?” Thorne thundered the words, and his face was so red it looked like he might explode in flame for a moment. “I won’t have it. You’re through with him. Do you hear me?” He shouted the question.

And I, in my ultimate defeat, find a hollow sort of peace. Trapped in the void, I’m startled when different visions flicker to life before me. Three thrones appear, each bathed in its own distinct hue—emerald green, deep crimson, and royal blue. On each throne sits a young king, their features strikingly familiar, and yet not. It’s as though I’m watching a play with characters I should recognise but don’t.

And there it stood. The Blood Throne. It was carved from obsidian, veins of red crystal pulsing through it like a beating heart. The floor was cracked around it, as though the throne had erupted from the earth. Before it knelt a man. Or what was left of one. He was bone and ash wrapped in black robes. His hair was silver, his skin like charred marble. He did not look up—he only whispered in a language none of them understood. Aelin whimpered. “He’s trying to bind to me. To make me sit.”

The language was old and precise and it circled the answer in three paragraphs before it said the name directly. Holt. Not Cole. Not the Winters line. Not any council family. Holt. The Lycan Chairman's bloodline, direct and unbroken for four generations. Mara set the page down on her kitchen table. She pressed her palms flat on either side of it. She breathed. The rejection had always felt wrong. Not emotionally wrong that would have made simple sense, grief explaining the persistent ache. Wrong in the way that a bone healed badly felt wrong, a fundamental misalignment that never quite resolved. She had attributed it to trauma. To the unfinished nature of a broken bond.

“For the past year, every cent I spent went into their private accounts. “I used three times the black money to buy out the ace force you were so proud of.” I set down the glass and slowly stood, walking step by step toward Luis. With a swift motion, I drove a dagger straight through his palm, pinning him firmly to the table. His scream echoed through the hall. Darlene trembled all over, stammering as she began to beg for mercy. “Annelise, I was wrong! I’m your mother. I raised you!” Expressionless, I pulled out the dagger and cleanly slit Luis’ throat. Blood sprayed like a fountain across Darlene’s and Angelina’s faces.

Him dying in peace and going to hell that befits him pays off that him been stabbed and stoned to death on the very spot of his sickbed where he lies. "D, once we are able to urge them to go back to their respective homes and leave the fight for another day, we should go help Mother to pack the luggages back to our new home. They can have the throne since lastest tonight, Father will be gone."I quickly quipped and he nodded in understanding. Snapping my head to face the uproar, I was alarmed when I almost slammed my face into one of them bulky chest. Crap, thank my luck. "Get away from the door kids! We are here to see the most worstest and cruel Alpha we have ever let on the throne."One fro

He notices one statue is broken, all that remains is stone pieces. “Sire, I bring you Hector,” Rex says. Rex kneels before the throne. The throne is made from an oak tree found on the battlefield of a ten-year war covered in the blood of the slain. It is a high-back, oak wood that is stained red with the blood of his enemies, studded with jewels along the armrest, with a black cushion forming part of the seat. Once Rex is on his knees, he pulls Hector down onto his knees. Behind the throne is a red tapestry with a living oak tree.

“This throne polluted with blood and greed?” “That throne is our hope…” “You say that after everything you have just seen?! You will give up something bigger for a small throne?" he raged. Mare stared defiantly at him even though his words stirred something inside her. The prophecy was far bigger than she ever knew. “What I have just seen is a trick and nothing more.” She stepped back and dipped her head. “Six kingdoms? Dragon lords? You do not have a dragon, I have a dragon and now you have cooked up a tale to sway me from that which I must do.”