The Ashes And The Star Cursed King Novels & Stories

“But the answers you seek are not the ones you need.” I narrowed my gaze. “Then tell me what I need to know.” She pulled up a crooked and strange smile. “You come with questions about a girl. But you should be more concerned about the fire chasing your bloodline.” I stared, unblinking. “The curse has returned,” she said. “Passed from the blood of your fathers to your crown. The price has come due. You will die soon… if you don't do the right thing.” “What right thing?” I asked, my voice low. “Speak plainly.”

“If she chooses to rise… if she reclaims what was stolen… what happens to you?” The king chuckled softly—bitter and sad. “I fade. My part ends with her awakening. That is the cost I pay for redemption.” Elara turned to him, heart pounding. “Then let it end,” she said. “Let the curse break. Let me decide what kind of legacy I leave behind.” With a final nod, the cursed king closed his eyes. His body dissolved—not into ash, but into starlight. One last spark of ancient magic passing into her. Not control. Not command. Just the gift of knowing.

Thea was still in my father's chambers, crying and mourning his death, when I came out to announce the death of the great King to the people. I called an impromptu meeting of everyone in the kingdom and announced the death of the late King, my father. They all sympathized with me and paid their last respect to the King. Then it was time for the rites to be performed for him to finally rest in perfect peace. It was custom that we had been following for years that Kings be burned to ashes when they die, and the ashes of their corpses that have been burnt would be spread in the river. This way it meant that the souls of the King will forever be in our hearts.

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.

Unlike the other portraits, where the figures had softer, friendlier features, this man exuded an aura of danger. “He is handsome, isn’t he?” Sandy came to her side, looking up at the portrait as well. “Yes, but… he looks cold, stern… dangerous.” Katherine listed, and she muttered to herself, “and his eyes are dead, empty, void of any emotion, nothing of joy.” “He is ruthless. A devil like everyone deemed. The most ruthless of the royal generation. He is the Alpha King, Luther Reeds.” Sandy said and gestured Katherine to look at his name below the portrait and there, engraved on the golden frame of the portrait was his name.

Liora’s breath caught, For one second, the world held her between moments, between words, And then it shattered, Ashen fell like an unfinished thought, Not graceful, Not tragic, Just broken. She hit the ground hard, her small frame cracking the earth beneath her. The crown, the Hollow Crown, tumbled from her head, rolling once, then stopping at Liora’s feet. Liora didn’t move. Couldn’t, Because the air around Ashen was… undoing, Grass unraveled into linework. Stones became outlines. The soil beneath her burned white-hot, like the world wasn’t erasing her, it was rejecting her. The girl convulsed, breath stuttering, Her ink-blood seeped from the wound and spilled into glyphs on the dirt. Word

The open page showed neat rows of words written in small, careful script: They say the Light has no shadow, but even stars fall upon the ground. She smiled faintly, then closed the book and covered him with her cloak. When she stepped outside, the snow had stopped. The sky was clear, the stars so sharp they seemed to hum. Frost had crept higher along the chapel walls, spiraling into intricate patterns that glowed faintly with silver light. Balance was stirring, restless. Lucien approached from the gate, his breath misting in the cold. “The fires from the valley are visible now. You can see them from the ridge.”

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.”

Sienna's POV A year later, on the night of the Starfall Festival. "I heard she's back." "The Shadow Queen, that's what they call her." "How many traitors has she executed?" "They say she cut a bloody swath from here to the southern border, leaving a trail of traitors' bodies in her wake." I stood in the shadows of the grand hall, listening to the whispers of my pack. My black hood hid my face, but it couldn't hide the fear in their eyes.

I ask, unblinking, “would that concern you?” “It’s Aysel,” she whispers. Tears flood her eyes on command. Her shoulders begin to shake. “She is cursed, my King. Everyone in Lumiville knows this. Her curse killed her mother in childbirth. Her curse left her born without a wolf. Her curse damaged her heart.” The tears fall freely now.