Red Blood Throne Novels & Stories

From the base of that throne, from the cracks in the stone beneath it, thin, dark lines were sliding outward. Blood. It wormed its way into the grout between tiles, spider-webbing toward us like crimson fingers. The throne itself pulsed once, faintly. My Regret Mark burned hot enough to hurt. I swallowed. “Okay,” I said, voice hoarse. “So I’m guessing ‘penalty event’ doesn’t mean we lose points off our final grade.” No one laughed. The House had woken something deeper than vampire wolves. And if my stories were anything to go by, thrones that bled were never a good sign for anyone still standing.

monster child" played in my head a billion times. Nico sighed. "Under every other full moon, I transformed. The beast within awoke, clawing its way out, tearing me apart from the inside." He shuddered, his hands clenched into fists. "But not under the Red Moon. It was as if the crimson glow held the beast at bay, a silent guardian." He looked at me, his eyes filled with a haunted light. "My mother…saw it too. The Red Moon, she called it, my protector, my lifeline. And so, she named me Luna Rossa, the child of the Crimson Moon."

The fear is so palpable that it feels like you could cut it with a knife. I’m turned to face a vampire on a throne. Again, it feels so cliché that if I wasn’t disgusted by what is going on around me, I’d laugh. The throne is metal the color of pewter covered in a blood red cushioning across the back, seat and arm rests. I can’t tell how tall the vampire is, I’m assuming he’s the prince, but the chair back sits about six inches higher than his head.

Marcus POV: ­ Warning: 18+ blood and gore, please skip if you do not like graphic scenes. The air around the throne room was thick with blood. Marcus Raven, alpha of the Raven clawhold and self-proclaimed devil, licked his lips with anticipation. The walls of the throne room of his pack were painted in blood, the dark red stone walls were covered in shadows, further amplifying the terror of the throne room. Tonight, just like every other night where Marcus was angry, the walls were going to be repainted.

I assumed this included physically, and I wondered if I could stand her presence when next I saw her. However, it was hard to believe that when we first fought Chadwick, she was with my curse because she looked so calm, and always, she coordinated herself. I don’t know if I was coordinating myself enough. Maybe, her throne, also called the throne of blood, the blood throne, or the blood seat had something to do with this. You see, that throne was a powerful tool of its own. While the power of Eleanor could be used against the blood sea, rumours had it nothing could rival the power of the blood throne.

From the name of the Pack alone, the red stone signifies beauty and power, and after every full moon, the blood moon takes over, fortifying the powers of the throne. The throne wasn't an ordinary throne that anyone could possess aside from the descendants of the royal blood which his opponents didn't know until they killed him and realized that killing him was useless. What Alpha will rule then if he can't possess the power of the throne? The last option is to either appoint one before Raze comes back or die on the spot on the chair. The throne makes one indestructible, invincible, and indestructible. It was designed by his forefathers during a war, seeing that they were trying so hard to ta

It bowed. Outside, the sky blazed with banners of white and gold. Crowds filled the plaza, tossing petals into the air until the wind carried the scent of jasmine and salt. At the palace steps stood the Iron Throne ancient, cold, and blackened by centuries of rule. It had witnessed empires rise and rot, and had drunk the blood of kings and queens alike. Now it waited for its burial. Bianca approached it alone, her long coat trailing behind her like a shadow that refused to fade. She placed one hand on its armrest feeling the chill, the faint pulse of memory that lived in the steel.

Then: "Everything is 'not necessarily' with you." Then Seraphine ignored him. Looking directly at Thomas. Then: "The throne only awakens for royal blood." The floating crown glowed. Black light spread across the sky. Then: "It hasn't awakened in thousands of years." Silence. Then: "Until now." Thomas didn't like that. Not one bit. Then Malrik smiled. Then: "Because the throne finally found its king." The battlefield grew colder. Then Kael's expression darkened. Immediately. Then: "No."

**Chapter 72: The Gathering of Thrones** The summons did not travel by messenger. It traveled by power. *** Through roots that whispered beneath the Eternal Glades. Through shadows that stretched across the Obsidian Realms. Through bloodlines, bonds, and ancient pacts long left dormant. *** Raven did not ask. She called. *** And this time— they answered. *** ### The Throne Hall of Valros The great hall had been prepared long before the first arrival. *** Obsidian pillars rose like black glass toward vaulted ceilings carved with ancient sigils—older than the current throne, older than the war, older even than the line of kings that had ruled before Victoria’s father.

*** In the center podium of a beautiful large room filled with dazzling brilliance with walls plated with platinum, its decorations only of the variations of gold and white, stood majestically a throne. This throne could be seen to have been carved meticulously from the finest of gold, and on top of it was a scepter carving with lifelike imagery of a fountain running around it, showing a depiction of the holy waters. Before this lovely white throne was a conspicuous red sword placed in a red sheath, leaving a glaring contrast from the surrounding white yet holding a certain match with a surreal charm that couldn’t be denied. Before this throne sat a being whose apparel flowed to the floor, a