The Prisoner's Throne Pdf Novels & Stories

But some part of me – the part that had once scrubbed these prisoners' boots and lived in fear of their fists – still marvelled at the reversal of our positions. Athena stirred within me, her presence sharp with anticipation. 'Justice today,' she whispered in my mind. 'For our sisters.' I ran my fingertips along the smooth arms of my throne, grounding myself in its solid reality. When I first sat here a month ago, the throne had felt like a costume, a prop in some elaborate play. Now it felt like an extension of myself – the physical manifestation of power I was still learning to wield. Dominic stepped forward, the scar on his face pulling tight as he unrolled a scroll. His voice, hardened b

Having decided on that, Thapelo went to the dungeon right underneath the palace where the prisoners were kept hidden from the light of the day. Here, there were the traitors of the clan as well as prisoners from conquests from of old who had done many evil things. Some looked gaunt and old while others looked young and energetic and as Thapelo moved in between the cages that held them to the Victorian’s cage. On the other hand, Estella had called all the alphas that had joined them so as to get familiar with them. The tables were arranged to form one long table with chairs arranged along the table.

I would do anything he said right now. He then held up a piece of paper in his hand. It is no doubt the document that Phillip gave him. “And this,” he muttered, clenching the paper, then throwing it at me. “Tells me you’re not ready to be the Alpha King.” It hurt my pride that my big brother didn’t have faith in my capabilities. I straightened the document. I don’t remember signing this. Reagan. There would be no chance I would have, it permits prisoners to be thrown in the dungeons and to be treated like animals.”

There was no way he could defeat what I had in store. “And if I don’t defeat it?” He asks. “Then you will stay and the torture that comes with this stay will be the prisoners choice. Do we have a deal?” I ask. He nods. “Deal.” We shake hands as I teleport us to the coliseum. I sit on a throne overlooking the whole battlefield as I release the prisoners from their cells. All of them take their seats, not knowing what is going on. I look upon them. All their souls are broken since most have been here for many centuries or millennia. All of us see Damian, alone on the battlefield. I’ll admit that he has impressed me so far getting through hundreds of guards that were armed with stabbing weapons

My Alpha Female, my mate, had been gone a week surveying her territory. The moment she got back, I rejected our bond. "Just because I forgot your little trinket?" She laughed, blue eyes careless as ever. "Yes." I stared at her, face a mask. Seven days ago, Rowan, Alpha Female of the Silvermoon Ridge Pack, took her core warriors to inspect a newly acquired mining territory. When she returned, she had gifts for everyone. Even the border patrol got aged liquor. She forgot the only thing that mattered. The pure Moonstone I needed to soothe my burning Alpha blood. I'd waited two months. Then her new Omega scribe, Finn, posted a selfie on the pack network—showing off a wolf-fang necklace carved f

The whispers grew louder, almost deafening now, but still incomprehensible. Finally, we reached the heart of the prison—a vast, open space where the air was thick with the stench of decay. In the center of the chamber stood a massive stone throne, ancient and weathered, its surface covered in strange symbols that seemed to shift and writhe under our gaze. But it wasn’t the throne that caught my attention. It was the figure standing before it.

It was just there, an anchor. “You can’t—” I started. “You’ll be next,” he said, low. “Wait.” The man reached the base of the dais. His legs bent, jerky and puppetlike, forcing him to climb each step. He fought every inch of the way, grabbing at the railing, leaving bloody streaks where his nails tore skin. The throne pulsed brighter. My skin crawled. In my head, a ghost‑scene played over this one—words tapping themselves onto a screen: *The House doesn’t always kill those who break its rules.* *Sometimes it feeds them to its heart.* *Sometimes the throne decides to claim its own seat filler…*

“Yes. Tear each other apart, little Alphas. Fight for her heart while the world drowns. You don’t even see what’s happening!” She pointed toward the Rift, where the eclipse light bled into cracks across the ground. “The throne is not a seat. It is a seal. And if your precious girl sits, she won’t wear a crown—she’ll unlock him.” Her words silenced the battlefield, if only for a heartbeat. --- The Prison of Fenris Inside the Rift, Serena froze as the ground split beside the throne. Chains clattered. A low, guttural growl rose from the depths, vibrating through her marrow.

They were bruised, their spirits frayed by the encounter with their own shadows. "She’s right," I whispered, looking at the central spire. "The throne is a vacuum. It wants me to give up everything that makes me human so I can become a perfect vessel for the dark." Thane walked over to me, his face bloody but his eyes burning with a fierce, stubborn light. He grabbed my hand—the one with the violet veins—and laced his fingers through mine. "Then don't be a vessel," he said. "Be an anchor. If the throne wants to pull you into the Abyss, let it try. We are the ones holding the rope."

Or that it was a resting place for her kind. They finally entered another room, this one smaller than the others, but with high, vaulted ceilings, and natural light pouring in. This room had stark, stone floors, and in its center sat one remarkable piece of furniture: a throne. Mounted high up on a pedestal, at least fifteen feet high, sat the wooden throne, a chair which was extra wide, with arms that sloped upward, and a back that angled on a triangle, coming to a point in the middle. Beneath it, on its corners, sat two golden lions, designed to look as if they were holding up the chair.