The Ashes And The Star Cursed King Audiobook นิยาย & เรื่องราว

And the name of the child of the King of Darkness and Princess Celestine was ASH ZACHARY LOCKWOOD. So Ash is the King of Darkness. That explains why Tenebris wanted me dead. Ash wanted to disappear in the first place, so if he is the King of Darkness, then surely the Tenebris, who are his henchmen, are already chasing me.

I ask, leaning back slightly to look at him more clearly. "Yeah, it was in a book – the recordings of the war between Astria and the Lycan king, written by my ancestor, King Cyrus, years after the war," he reveals. My heart skips a beat, pounding with excitement. This is precisely the kind of good news I needed. "That's amazing! Where is this book, though?" "It's in The Obsidian Library..." "Oh..." My heart sinks a little. The mere mention of that place brings back a bitter taste, memories of what I had to do back then just for a key into it, when Kamila held the reins.

And it wasn’t good. “Father… are you no longer able to shift?” Asher asked. The king’s gaze swept over us before settling on Asher. A heavy silence filled the room before he finally spoke. “You are right,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion. “The curse is severing my connection to my wolf. I can feel it slipping away”. His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw something that terrified me more than anything. It was fear; the king was afraid.

A shudder rolled through his massive shoulders. “I don’t care what this curse is,” I said, stepping closer, so close now that I could feel the humid heat rolling off his body, sticky with sweat, blood, and ancient, malevolent magic. “You are mine, Kaiden Valen, Alpha King of Aethoria, you belong to me.” Another flash of emerald, this one stronger, brighter. His massive chest heaved. “Come back to me,” I whispered, desperate, raw. “Please.” The creature’s lips trembled, twisted between a snarl and something like pain.

A voice — deep, ancient, hungry — rolled through the darkness. “You defy me again, wolf.” Cole’s teeth bared. “Damn right I do.” The ground erupted. From the fissures rose the shadow of a man — tall, faceless, cloaked in light and smoke. The same figure that haunted Lila’s dreams. The King of the Cursed. “Would you give your life for her?” the voice asked. “Yes.” “You would give your soul?” “Yes!” Cole roared. The figure tilted its head, almost amused. “Then bleed for her.”

He began to step backward, his physical form dissolving into a column of swirling, superheated volcanic ash. "A true King does not steal his bride in the dark," the Dragon King’s voice echoed from the ash cloud as he ascended into the bleeding sky. "I will burn your little empire to the ground, Killian Blackwood. And when there is nothing left but ash, my Queen will fly to me." The ash scattered, carried away by the hurricane winds, leaving Killian and me alone on the shattered glass beach. The honeymoon was over. The world was on fire. Killian didn't roar. He extinguished his flaming broadsword and turned to me, his golden eyes filled with the cold, absolute logic of a warlord whose family

Nyxara POV I’ve walked away from everything in my life. Kingdoms. War. My own kind. So why— Is he the one thing I can’t seem to leave behind? ⸻ The moment he stops speaking, the silence that follows is not empty, not neutral, but heavy in a way that settles deep beneath my skin, pressing against something I have spent centuries locking away, something I do not allow to surface, something that has no place in the life I have built for myself.

*********************** I pour a drink. Stand at the window looking at the city. Somewhere out there, Julian Voss is in a holding cell. Facing twenty years. Losing everything. Because Esmeralda Morrison...Hale...destroyed him. Using his own words. His own confessions. His own desperate need for redemption. It's brilliant. Ruthless. Perfect. And it cost her something. I could see it in her eyes when she came home. The emptiness. The realization that revenge doesn't fill holes.

I clenched my jaw and forced ash to rise at my feet—thin at first, then thicker, curling like smoke around my calves, trying to hold me in place. The Hollow King watched the ash with fascination. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “She’s stronger than the stories said.” I swallowed hard. “What do you want?” The Hollow King’s gaze stayed on my wrist mark, voice turning gentle—too gentle. “What was taken,” he said simply. “My door. My crown. My law.” He touched the carved mark on his throat. “Do you know what it is to have your name turned into silence?” My skin prickled. “You’re ashbound,” I whispered, realization tasting like smoke.

Cassian said, pointing to the ground. ​I looked down and gasped. My shadow, which should have been cast by the glow of my own body, was roiling like liquid. It was a dark, emerald-tinted stain on the violet glass, and it was trying to pull itself away from my feet, stretching toward the Black Star. But Cassian was even worse. He stood in the center of the wastes, and the ground beneath him was perfectly, terrifyingly blank. ​The Black Star had drunk his shadow. The King was half-gone before the journey had even truly begun.