Novel & Cerita The Throne Of Honor And Blood

On both sides of the aisle, dozens of the family's elite assassins knelt on one knee with their heads lowered in respect. I had changed into a dark crimson couture gown and sat lazily against a leather sofa chair, swirling a glass of red wine in my hand. The man seated across from me reached over and gently rubbed my head. Rossi Nostra. Heir to the Nostra family. The eldest son of the Don. My brother. "Welcome home, Principessa." I gazed quietly at the endless sea of clouds outside the window. "Brother." My voice was soft. "I want everyone involved in hurting my child... dead."

I assumed this included physically, and I wondered if I could stand her presence when next I saw her. However, it was hard to believe that when we first fought Chadwick, she was with my curse because she looked so calm, and always, she coordinated herself. I don’t know if I was coordinating myself enough. Maybe, her throne, also called the throne of blood, the blood throne, or the blood seat had something to do with this. You see, that throne was a powerful tool of its own. While the power of Eleanor could be used against the blood sea, rumours had it nothing could rival the power of the blood throne.

Now, those same carvings were scorched and corrupted, their faces cracked or defaced, their once noble symbolism consumed by vines twisted with shadow. She walked barefoot over cold stone, feet silent but commanding, and approached the throne she had taken for herself. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t regal. It was earned—built from shards of her past, from the remnants of her broken crown and shattered heart. At the base of the throne, a massive tome lay open, pages stiff with blood. Not ink. Blood. Her blood. Her daughter's blood. Anyone’s blood she could get her claws on. She ran her fingers over the ancient script—language so old that even time itself had forgotten it. The power thrummed ben

that frightened me less than the thought of losing her. Matthias stepped closer to the throne. “The old world understood something modern packs have forgotten,” he continued. “Power survives through blood. Through mating bonds. Through heirs.” His smile sharpened. “The throne requires completion. And tonight, one way or another, it will have it.” Liora’s hand brushed mine briefly. Instinctive and grounding. I turned slightly toward her. “You don’t have to do this.” The words came quietly enough that only she heard them. Pain crossed her face immediately.

Octavia murmured to herself but still loud enough for my ears. "What? What did you suspect?" I quickly demanded. I wanted to know what she was thinking. "Ordinary true-blood vampires are strong because they are born that way, but the royal ones are far beyond the estimated strength. Though, there are just a few of the royal families left in the ancient world. Their bloodlines are believed to be inherited from the original creator of the vampire race. That explains why you were awakened earlier, why you have characteristics of a real vampire even though you're just half-blood. Now everything falls into place."

They come out of the room to meet Gavin and Hector. Luis nods to both. Hector goes into the room and comes back out with wide eyes. “What the fuck happened?” “Gavin explain.” Veronica says with a smirk on her lips. “Yes, Donna.” Gavin says with a chuckle. “This is a reason the Donna is called the Blood Queen.” The color drains from Hector’s face and Luis laughs. “That’s part of why I keep reminding everyone to be respectful.” Luis says with a small chuckle.

“Strike true, Harbinger.” Elior plunged the Veilblade into the throne. The moment steel met stone, the world shattered. A blinding light erupted from the throne, engulfing everything in a torrent of raw energy. The chains wrapped around the spectral kings snapped one by one, their forms unraveling into nothingness. The shadows screamed, their hold weakening as the Veil itself trembled. Elior felt something inside him tear, as though the very threads of fate were unraveling. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, driving the blade deeper.

Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the sea of kneeling warriors. "They recognized your blood." Marcus tightened his grip on his sword. "I don't care whose blood she carries." He stepped in front of Beauty. "She's not anyone's queen." A low rumble rolled through the cavern. One of the guardians slowly lifted its head. Its face was hidden behind an ancient silver helm, but a calm, resonant voice echoed through the chamber. "The Blood Throne cannot remain empty." Another guardian spoke. "The heir has returned." Then another. "The covenant must be fulfilled."

The chieftain ceremony included a sky-offering ritual, so it was held at the mountain cliff. She realized that I, who was once inferior to her in everything, had become the wife of the chieftain, and she was filled with jealousy. She seized the opportunity when everyone was kneeling to worship the sky and charged at me to shove me off the cliff. "Lynn Jane, you've always been beneath me since we were kids. Why should you live better than me? Die!" she had yelled. Our families used to be neighbors, and my family had been better off than hers.