Shattered Crown Novels & Stories

“The witch is dead, her blood is gone, my father’s lab is next, we burn it, we break the rest of his work, you get your minds back.” Murmurs. Hope. Draven steps to me, careful. “The crown,” he says. “Can you take it off.” I touch it. It burns. “I don’t know.” “Try,” he says. “For me.” I pull. Pain rips through my skull, and the crown comes away, blood on the tines. It crumbles to ash in my hand. The ferals gasp, some falling, some crying, as if a string got cut.

"You'll activate its defenses!" "Good," Ezra said. And then I felt it. A massive surge of power as Ezra did something. The Shadow Crown screamed. Actually screamed like a living thing being murdered. Then it shattered. The pieces dissolved into black smoke that dissipated on the wind. Gone. Nyx shrieked. "No! Do you have any idea what you've done? That crown was centuries old! Irreplaceable!" "That was the point," Ezra said calmly. The shadow magic inside me reacted to the crown's destruction. It surged violently, then started to dissipate too.

I hit end call. That witch thinks she can get next to me again. I laugh at the thought. I don’t care what anybody says about it. She thinks that she can lie to me, betray me, and everything is going to be okay. I shake my head. What am I saying? Of course, that’s what she thinks. That girl has always been trouble, but against my better judgment, I overlooked that. That’s a mistake I will never make again. She’s a spoiled rich girl who is used to getting what she wants. Her father babied her because her mother abandoned her, and she was his only child. She’s crazy, and spoiled all rolled up in one, and that’s some shit I want nothing to do with.

The robot looked up at me with one remaining fake eye. “Princess,” it repeated mechanically. I shoved the shotgun directly into its mouth. “You should have picked a less creepy nickname.” BOOM. Its entire head exploded apart. Silence. Heavy breathing filled the destroyed restaurant while smoke drifted through the air slowly. Bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere. Broken glass. Bullet holes. Absolute chaos. And in the middle of it… Rico was gone. That coward escaped during the madness. I lowered the shotgun slowly, my chest rising heavily while adrenaline still burned through my body.

Her voice broke. “…the prophecy.” ⸻ Damien slowly closed his eyes. “No…” He whispered. “She saw it.” Leonardo looked between them. “What prophecy?” No one answered. Because above them… The Crystal Crown had begun to crack. One fracture. Then another. Light poured through the gaps. The consciousness of the Archive raised its glowing hand. Its final words echoed like thunder. “The time of choosing has ended.” “The time of sacrifice begins.” The Crystal Crown shattered into thousands of brilliant fragments.

The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. “What we had?” The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than a shout. “You mean the years you let me believe I was broken, while you knew the truth? The art you stole from me? The child you murdered? That’s not a marriage, Vincent. That’s a damnation.” "It was a misunderstanding! It was all Sophia’s plan!" Vincent sobbed, tears and blood mixing on his face. "I already made her pay! I made her life a living hell!"

Elena I’d always thought the worst part was over. That once the marriage ended—once the shouting, the betrayal, the divorce, and the long custody battle had all burned themselves out—I’d finally reached the calm after the storm. But peace is fragile. It cracks when someone like Daniel breathes your name again. When the past refuses to remain buried. And tonight, it shattered.

Veda whispered a small sorry as she looked at Adyant who had already stormed out of the room, leaving her shattered. Looking around she moved her hand forward and wore the engagement ring again, her finger feeling heavy from the weight of the light diamond ring and the pain, ache and agony which came along with it. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─ So how was the prelude yall? Any thoughts on Adyant and Veda?

Now you’ve put her in danger too. Her blood turned to ice. Before she could respond, another message followed. A photo, charlotte, standing outside her dorm. Unaware.Smiling. Isabelle’s scream tore through the mansion. And somewhere deep below, Dante Marchetti prepared for a war that would not spare the innocent.

“I know.” A small, breathless smile curved his mouth. “And I love you too,” she whispered. Below them, the lake caught the light and held it, and the forest around it carried that warmth inward—through root and stone, through corridor and heart—until it reached the quieter halls of the palace, where another choice waited with equal patience. Corren stood alone in the Hall of Roots, the Verdant Crown resting upon its living pedestal. It was not forged by fire but shaped by time—wood veined with gold, leaves eternally green along its arch. The chamber smelled of earth and rain, ancient and steady.