The Throne Of Fire Novels & Stories

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

She finds it hard to watch Althea, her sister, get tight whenever she comes close, and she always bats her eyes in rejection when she looks at her. Even though I can scarcely see Kohl because of my poor vision, his golden eyes attract my attention when I see him. she said to herself. Kohl's lips were pursed as he looked straight into my soul as they drew closer and shared a passionate kiss. The essence of love overpowered the speed of light that flashed across their heads. Naomi, taken aback by the odd title, questioned, "Who? Me, Queen?" as Prince Kohl whispered to her, "Queen of the iron throne." Just a housekeeper at the Palace, remember? I'm not one of the maids vying for your love.

Her fingertips brushed the glass, and— —visions exploded. Fire raining from a red sky. The Spiral shattering, not once, but again and again—across worlds. A woman not Selena, but wearing her face, laughing as realms crumbled beneath her feet. And at the center of it all, a throne of obsidian, burning with a flame that consumed reality itself. Upon it sat no god. No monster. Just her. Or what she might become.

By the big fire, the elders shared tales of Flame-Lore. Raea, the Fire Seer, spoke softly: “Long ago, a kingdom of ice-weavers rose in the north. Their walls grew higher, their hearts turned cold. We came and burned the walls, and provided warmth, heat. The fire we sparked cleansed, not consumed.” Naia, seated near the waterfall mosaic, tapped her chalice and added, “And water soothed their wounds.” Aglaya leaned in. “Thalia: Fire is not anger. It is light. Let it reveal what hides in shadows.”

The disembodied voice of Umbra echoed, a lamentation of thwarted malevolence. Ignis, the embodiment of fiery vengeance, surged forward with flames that danced with an unnatural sentience. Maximus, undeterred, wielded his sword with precise strikes, carving through the ethereal fire as if wielding the very essence of resistance. The temperature in the throne room fluctuated wildly, creating an otherworldly spectacle of light and heat.

His normally calm demeanor was replaced by an aura of danger, his eyes flashing with a steely resolve that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to meet his gaze. As he spoke, his voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade, each word carrying the weight of his authority. “Listen carefully, all of you,” he commanded, his voice echoing off the walls. “If anyone is caught lying about their faction or their allegiance, they will suffer the same fate as this unfortunate girl.” The mention of the girl sent a wave of unease through the crowd. Leona Nightingale, a quiet and unassuming student, had been struck down by Caleb’s swift and decisive action. Her body lay motionless on the g

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, like the splitting of atoms, the intense energy held within released its horrifying destruction. Not even Oliver could have imagined the power which had just been allowed to run free. It was like a miniature nuclear explosion, the way wave after wave of pressure and fire swept through the buildings. At each contact, paper and wood were shredded to the point of atoms and the granite which had stood for centuries, shattered into insignificant shards, and swept up into the growing tide. The dark night was broken with exploding, brilliant light and the previously cold, crisp air was now a fiery hot, blazing furnace. Every bit of matter was consumed and d

The symbols burned. The throne had chosen. Only one remained. And it wasn’t him.

"Let her watch the lowlands drown from her seat." ​The grand throne room is a landscape of humiliation. ​The high, cracked glass windows look out over a lower courtyard that is entirely consumed by fire and blood, the black liquid shadow of Clyde’s wolf-spirit thrashing against a sea of western iron below. I am shoved onto the cold obsidian throne, my silver-cuffed wrists resting heavily on the stone armrests, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the silver poison burns through my skin. ​Diana paces before the dais, her grey silk kirtle trailing in the dust, her eyes fixed on the low, beautiful curve of my stomach. Malakai’s spies were thorough; she knows exactly why my fire is broken

“And you have a fire in your eyes. I like that.” Elara swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She could feel the heat radiating from his hand. “Thank you.” Mr. Thorne moved closer, his presence commanding. “We appreciate a woman who knows what she wants. And isn’t afraid to go after it.” His eyes, dark and intense, held hers. “Tell us, Elara, what do you want from us tonight?” Her mind flashed to the fifty thousand dollars. “To… to please you both.” Mr. Davies smiled. “Good. We like to be pleased.” He reached for the zipper of her silk dress. “May I?”