The Ivory Throne Book Novels & Stories

I don't want to react this way to him. To my right a door opens and the witch queen steps through. Still at his beck and call. I feel a little less of an idiot with her presence now. "Ready?" She asks Thorne. He nods and takes her hand and guides her to me. She lays a book down on the bed. I can't quite read it from this angle.

Plural. The stories I heard was that Jonathan Devon, Hellhound Senior, had been given a throne by a qilin, for a favour, that everyone has a different story for. Apparently, Johnny Hellhound has a thing for not being consistent with his stories. Anyways, no one knows who carved the throne either. Well, who or what. But it’s a massive Asian-like chair, with gold-embroidered cushions and a massive five feet high backrest with intricate carving made mostly of black jade. The thing is wide enough to sit two or three people.

Despite her physical frailty, an undeniable aura of power and wisdom emanated from her, demanding both respect and curiosity from those who crossed her path. "Ah, Leon, there is much I must tell you inside your house," She said, her tone serious and I quickly led her inside my home before anyone else spotted her. "Pray to tell, dear friend, what has led you to grace my humble abode?" I inquired, extending a welcoming gesture as Ivy settled into my cherished vintage armchair. Only after she had made herself comfortable did she proceed to address me. "The fate of your pack hangs in the balance. Great change is coming, and it involves two heirs who claim the throne."

Book 2: Crown of Shadows Chapter 41: The Reckoning The throne room fell into a silence so absolute it felt like the world itself was holding its breath. Courtiers who had been shouting moments before now stood frozen, the weight of their miscalculation settling over them like a suffocating blanket.

Stalactites the size of church spires hung overhead, their jagged points disappearing into shadow and making me very aware of exactly how small we were beneath them. The throne rested atop a polished obsidian dais that caught the faint mineral light and fractured it across the cavern. Real bones had been worked into the throne itself, lining the joints and armrests with deliberate precision. They weren’t decorations. They were a warning, one that made it perfectly clear what happened to anyone foolish enough to defy the ruler sitting there. It was beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful. Dark, deadly, and impossible to ignore. Black mountains clawed toward a bruised crimson sky off in the

“Rios, we have been involved in the affairs of the Knights for a long time. They have long been pondering the history of our family, the roots, and the end. The history began in the first generation, in the era of our former chairman’s grandfather.” I swallowed hard, but a waiter approached, so I smiled and thanked him as he took the champagne and drank it because their conversation was too heavy. “Many have asked why you didn’t take the throne when Grandma designated you to hold all the wealth left by the Knights, even the wealth Lady Josephine has. You know Carter is not suitable for that position because he has his properties and business. Grandma entrusted the throne to you because you a

“Now she wants what she couldn’t have before.” “That's You?” “No,” he replied quietly. “The crown.” —Ethan’s POV— The memory of Ivory didn’t just sting. It burned. She had left me the night before I inherited my first company. Said I was too broken, too cold, too consumed by vengeance. She chose comfort over crisis. Now she was back. Not because of love. Because of power. She thinks our son is a pawn—a way back into the bloodline. The name. The throne. And she will burn before I let her take a second of him.

Ivy’s Vision She stood in a throne room of fire and ash. Atop the throne sat a woman—radiant, terrifying, crowned in shadows and flame. Isla. At her feet knelt two children. One with Ivy’s golden eyes. The other with Killian’s haunting gray. “Choose,” Isla hissed. “One to live. One to die.” Ivy screamed and ran forward—but her feet wouldn’t move. The Isla in the vision stood, walking slowly toward her. “You cannot split what was made as one. There will always be war inside them. Unless…”

Chapter 5 Tristan's POV: I sat at my high throne that stood majestically in the grand hall, its presence commanding reverence and awe. Carved from a single block of polished ebony, it absorbed the light around it, radiating an aura of power and sophistication. Intricate patterns of gold and silver adorned its surface, depicting scenes of mythical creatures and celestial bodies. The armrests were shaped like lions' heads, their mouths open in a fierce roar, while the legs were designed to resemble serpents, coiled and ready to strike.

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.