The Throne Of Fire Novels & Stories

Especially since Elinor wasn’t ready to take over the throne yet. *** Elinor remained rooted there for a few moments watching as the fire ate up at the walls of the mansion from the inside out engulfing everything in its path in red flames and smoke. It was clear that the fire was just starting around her, but it was already too late to try to stop its progress from burning down the whole manor. Before she could think about it any further, she started running out of the basement and up the stairs ignoring the pain in her limbs from the drug she had been forced to inhale.

We stood side by side, receiving the blessings and cheers of all present. On my finger glittered a massive diamond ring, a symbol of the alliance between two mafia families. Behind me stood a knight whose loyalty would never waver. Beneath me lay a vast empire, growing at a staggering pace. As for love? It had been buried three months ago in that blood-soaked casino, along with my shattered right hand. For me, love no longer existed. And now, the new commander rose, her reign beginning with absolute authority.

Their expressions all looked tense, with frowns furrowed and hardened jaws. "We need to start preparing because a major war seems inevitable," Father said. "Several kingdoms are experiencing crises simultaneously. The Eastern Kingdom is experiencing the massive civil war their land has ever seen. "The Southern Kingdom lost their next leader, who had been betrothed to the strongest Alpha in their kingdom. The man accused the King of doing it on purpose and threatened to remove him from his throne. The Western Kingdom is facing serious internal problems within its palace. I believe this is happening under the influence of outsiders," Father explained.

She raised the Crownslayer high—and plunged it into the heart of the broken throne. The fire died for good. And so did the age of shackled power.

Her Throne has never been shook before. The Third Throne, the West: ruled by Morrigan. She and Akasha are close friends. The second woman in the council. Her feminine rage is not to be tampered with. The Fourth Throne, the south: ruled by Atticus. He's the only friend I have in the council, the only one who's ever shown care and understands the pain I passed through, and certainly the only one who speaks in my favour anytime Marcellus objects me. The ladies are neutral, painfully.

But that throne changed us all. Even me and him. He was once my guard, my protector. Now, he’s after my kingdom. The path to the throne is paved with thorns, pain and blood. To win, I’ll risk it all. I should risk all of that I have even if my heart is included. --- ETHAN ASH PENDLETON

When was he able to force himself to break her spell? His life started with her but unfortunately, it never ended with her. "Doesn't the throne holds power?" She murmured "It does. But the real power lies in the one conquering it. It is the myth of the throne." He said as the event once again portrayed in his eyes. Unknowingly, the fear provoked in his heart as his grip on Astraea tightened a little. He could see her house now. It would only be a moment after which his night would end. He was pathetic, he knew that.

So those grudges and hatred really did not seem to matter anymore. Another night had passed. In the morning, Kisa woke up from the cold. The fire beside her had gone out, not even a spark left, but only a bit of residual warmth and white smoke. The firewood she had collected was all burned out, so she had to collect it again. She glanced at Gilbert across from her; he was facing the fireplace on his side, one hand under his head as a pillow, one hand casually resting on his waist. Kisa did not want to disturb him. She quietly got up to collect firewood. The lighter was next to her. She had to gather some firewood to get the fire going again, as it was the coldest time of the morning. She pou

The kind that didn’t belong to thrones or crowns or power. The kind that belonged to something far older. Something that survived even when kingdoms burned. The wind moved through the observatory once more, colder now, carrying the first hint of dawn far beyond the horizon. The night before the fire was almost over. And when the sun rose, the Citadel would learn what kind of Queen it truly had.

"We are only concerned with the purity of the throne, Risa. This isn't a game of trade tariffs. The Silver Fire is a living entity. It judges the soul and it judges the history of the royal blood line." She stood up, moving into my personal space. "Tell us, how does it feel? Knowing that within hours, the entire realm will watch the fire dance around you? Or perhaps... Through you? It’s said that if a woman enters the flame with a fractured bond, the fire doesn't just reject her. It seeks out the rot. It burns away the parts of her that still belong to another man." I felt a cold, sharp prickle of dread at the base of my spine. The rot and the fractured bond.