Soul Of The King Novels & Stories

Panic cut through the haze of heat. Arthur stumbled backward, his right hand flying instantly to the hilt of the ceremonial sword at his hip. His fingers fumbled against the leather grip. "Stay back," he rasped, his voice raw. He tried to draw the blade, but his wrist was weak, the steel catching in the scabbard with an uncoordinated, metallic screech. "I am your King, Malakor. Step back."

It felt like a bolt of fire striking my very soul, anchoring my heart directly to the monster standing across the room. Mate. The word echoed in my mind, loud as thunder. The Moon Goddess had tied our souls together. "No!" Kael roared. The sound didn't sound human; it was a deafening, guttural vibration that shook the stone walls. He paced like a rabid animal. His beast was going insane, completely intoxicated by the thick vanilla and honey soaking the air, desperate to lunge back onto the bed and claim its fated mate. But Kael’s human pride was fighting a brutal, agonizing war against his own soul. He was the most powerful King in the world. He was supposed to have a fierce, high-born warri

Together. The blue flame burned to destroy; it has died to kindle light. The throne of power lies broken; the seat of love is built. On that seat now sits Abrar—a tea seller, a dream‑weaver. Beside him are Dada, Father, Mother. And in the distance, the memory of a palace where once stood "The Throne of Power: The Reign of the Blue Flame."

It was the sound of a bone stave hitting the floorboards. Anya’s heart stopped. Not because of a kill-switch, and not because of a rejection. It stopped because the air in the room was suddenly sucked away, replaced by the crushing weight of a presence that had been hunting her since the moment she drew her first breath with a stolen soul. The door didn't open, yet a voice whispered directly into her ear, cold as a winter grave and twice as deep. "The King has cast the vessel aside... and now the soul belongs to the earth."

king:- that was quiet, I think your pain make you mature, you want to live because you are not in pain anymore, but in my case, I am still suffering that why I want to die, the only thing that can make me happy and set me free is death, Ariel:- kill yourself if you want to die, I will not kill you, because all this thing will take effort and time, that why I don't wast my time in meaningless conflicts, do forgive me, old man. king:- I want to die because, I try my everything to make this country survive and because of that, my kingdom is still alive at least, after fighting 3 nations alone, I think I done enough but then I lose my wife, she didn't deserve that kind fate, because of that I co

Still, almost nothing is the same as before. I’m a zombie, the living dead, the supreme specious of the planet, and the leader of one of the largest hordes in North America. I’m one of the Zombie Kings. My job is to keep the peace among zombies, keep my horde fed, and hunt humans for sport. I’m the stuff of Lacey’s nightmares now, and yet somehow, I have to rekindle our relationship so that I’m not forced to use her as a breeder.

“Well, he’s wrong. I—” “I’m not wrong!” Tom said, slamming his hand on the table. “You are Arthur. Prince Arthur, son of King Dean and Luna Sabina!” For a moment, the whole hall fell into a stunned silence, but people started to talk. “How is it possible?” “Aren't the entire king and luna's bloodline dead?” And Arthur just looked at Tom warily. He scoffed. He’d been called crazy, but this man was clearly crazier than him. “You’re crazy. I can’t be royalty,” Arthur shook his head. “In the pack I used to live in, I was seen as crazy, cursed by the moon goddess. They killed my sister trying to get rid of me—“

Devoid of vitality, it lay there motionless. "That will be your entire punishment!" His voice was cold as he spoke to them. Never before had all three experienced such a profound sense of terror throughout the entirety of their existence. Fear consumed every fiber of their being. Sophia Isabel lifted her head. Alaric was keenly aware of her next move. The woman's hand tightened around her neck as she twisted it with a sudden, violent motion. Rather than facing the wrath of the King, she chose to take her own life, longing to reunite with her beloved in the realm beyond.

An answering cry came up from the horde behind him and in no time he too was channeling the ancient battle cry of his people long gone unheard since the Great War. In the long run, he had to thank Khasi for giving him a chance to see what he cared about enough to fight for. Gone was the aloof Prince that lived in the moment and present was the King that fought for love, friendship and peace. The pounding of a thousand horse hooves behind him became like music to his ears fuelling him on and lighting his nerves with a does he didn't know he possessed. Everything became clearer in that moment; the smell of damp earth and see carried by the wind, the powerful muscular contractions of the beast

His hand closed around her throat in a flash, lifting her off the ground. “Say her name like that again,” he hissed, eyes burning red, “and I’ll end you.” Chloe clawed at his arm, choking. “Gabriel… I’m carrying your child! I’m your Blood Queen!” He laughed. Cold. Empty. “My Blood Queen,” he said slowly, “has always been Isabella.” “What makes you think you could ever replace her?” “You’re nothing but something my brother used—secondhand trash. A whore. I never once intended to make you my Blood Queen.”