Ringworld Throne Ebook Novels & Stories

Scrolls and neatly stacked papers covered most of it, but my eyes kept drifting to one thing—a book, slightly worn at the edges, sitting open as if someone had abandoned it in haste. Something about it made my pulse quicken. I moved toward it slowly, my breath turning shallow. The pages were open. It looks like a journal. Okay, Raven, you can do this I said to myself. Rowan’s handwriting was sharp and precise, inked in dark lines across the paper. The first words I saw made my stomach tighten. The throne will not be stable until she chooses. She. I turned the page, my hands unsteady. The curse is bound by blood.

she whispered, and for the first time, there was fear behind her eyes. Selena’s breath caught, her gaze locking on the sky above—where the Spiral twisted not into destruction, but into a form… a throne…Was the Spiral never a weapon… but a crown waiting to be worn whole? And if so… who was truly meant to wear it? Selena stepped closer, each footfall echoing not on stone, but on the taut strings of time itself. The Spiral had unfurled into a structure of impossible angles—an obsidian lattice blooming like a flower of night, humming with old power. At its peak sat the throne: not carved, but grown, shaped from the aftermath of every choice she had ever made. Each strand of the throne shimmered

As a show of my thanks, the coffee in front of you is on me. Seeing that I wasn't the least bit angry, Julia's expression grew increasingly twisted. In the end, she sneered and said, "You were born an Alpha's daughter and were pampered your whole life. When you grew up, you were destined to mate with an Alpha and become a Luna. "Why do you get to live in comfort while my home was destroyed in the rebellion? Why can I only survive on your charity? Why?" The more Julia talked, the more worked up she got. She slammed the table wildly, causing a huge scene that drew stares from everyone around.

“That the throne isn’t taken by force. It’s earned by sacrifice.” I thought of my mother, of the cradle burning, and of Kael’s scar, Cato, Elias, the fallen soldiers who had followed me into shadow. If I wore a crown, it wasn’t for glory. It was for every soul that never made it this far. Back across the valley, the fake coronation ended. The bone chariot turned away, and Lilith vanished into shadow. But I know one thing now. She wasn’t just fighting me. She was fighting the realm itself.

“Your Grace, we need to kill Shuntha,'' Seti walked alongside Raiden as he made his way to the icy throne. The throne wasn’t made of ice but metal that was painted white, it was almost a century old. It didn’t rust, it wasn’t worn down, the paint wasn’t chipped, and it looked like it had just been crafted. Five fairies that were part of the kingdom forged the throne with magic, the fairies were once respected and loved; until King Atticruss and Queen, Tressa feared them and spread hatred amongst the people.

“The queen knew something else too.” The council leader leaned slightly forward. Interested. “What?” Ardan’s voice dropped lower. “She knew the council would try to break the seal.” The council leader’s smile faded slightly. Ardan looked straight at me again. “That’s why she created the throne.” My stomach twisted. “What throne?” Ardan’s voice grew stronger despite his injuries. “The throne of wolves isn’t power.” He pointed weakly toward the Devourer. “It’s a prison.” The words slammed into the clearing.

The staircase climbed impossibly high into the darkness. Leading nowhere. Or perhaps somewhere far beyond the world. At the very top stood a throne. The throne from my vision. The Throne of Stars. The throne hidden beneath the kingdom. The throne every ancient power was searching for. And seated upon it was a figure. Motionless. Silent. Wrapped in chains made of silver fire. A prisoner. Still asleep. Still bound. Yet somehow more terrifying than anything we had seen so far. The golden eyes immediately focused on it. The thirteen fortresses turned toward it.

"Come, Elora. Step into the rift. Use the power I gave you. Save your kingdom by leaving it." I looked at the throne. I could feel the pull. It wasn't a physical pull; it was a psychological one. The throne was promising me an end to the struggle. No more fighting, no more betrayal, no more weight of the crown. Just a silent, eternal peace in the dark. "Don't listen to her," Jace hissed, his daggers glowing with a frantic, silver energy. "She’s not your mother. She’s just the biggest Weaver of them all."

The car drove slowly toward the bustling, sinful heart of New Haven. It was an empire that belonged entirely to me. I raised my right hand, wearing the ring of power. Looking at my cold reflection in the window, I curved my lips. A man’s love is worthless. Only absolute power never betrays.

Today, for the first time in centuries, it opened not for a war criminal, not for a king, but for a child. Elira sat at its center, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, her eyes glowing dimly with a light no sun had ever cast. Around her, six thrones hovered in a circle—one for each race bound to the Accord: Witch, Wolf, Vampire, Fae, Shade, and Human. The seventh throne, once reserved for the gods, remained empty. Zara stood just beyond the circle, silent, tense. Kael’s ghost-fire lingered in her chest like a second pulse. Ruby paced near the outer arch, sword sheathed but ready.