The Veiled Throne Novels & Stories

I pat him on the shoulder before we pull apart. ------------- King Orrin's ashes lay in the jar, as every God in Serenacia stays present in the room, honouring the dead king. Octavius, the wizard of Gods, takes over the event, where Orrin takes part in burial ritual of spreading his father's ashes through the Holy line, so he can rest in peace. The signature of white attires compliments the hall, as both God and goddesses, pay due decorum and respect to the late king. My eye meets with Cicero, as the look on his face makes me feel even more guilty of knowing what I know, but still yet, I couldn't call it murder when it is indeed treason.

and followed her to the sitting room. They didn't have to wait long. Vessa arrived at half past four. She came in still in her coat, hair slightly windswept from traveling, and she looked at the four of them assembled in the sitting room and something in her face confirmed what Eve already suspected. She knew exactly what was coming. She had known for a long time. "Sit down," Eve said. Vessa sat. Looked at her hands. Then looked at Eve. "I need to tell you about the throne," she said. "What it actually is. What was built into it." She paused. "And what has been waiting for a complete Seraphim heir to wake it up."

The Veil was not only testing the crown but also the resolve of those who served it. Aera traversed the halls with silent grace, observing, listening, and guiding. The crown emitted a faint glow, illuminating subtle manipulations and revealing concealed threads of influence. Every misstep, every hesitation, every trace of apprehension was meticulously recorded and analysed, preparing for the day when the Veil’s network would be unveiled.

Anrina was strapped tightly to the interrogation chair. "Leon! I was the one who helped you take the throne! You can't do this to me!" Leon crouched in front of her and slowly flipped open the diary, holding each page up for her to see. "You helped me? "You stole her achievements. And you got her, and my child was killed." Anrina instantly collapsed to her knees, smashing her forehead against the floor as she begged for mercy. Leon leaned against the wall and watched in silence, his face completely unreadable.

The forest looked warped beneath the half-light, and the air hung still, charged with invisible tension. Iris shaded her eyes. “Is it an eclipse?” Aiden’s voice was low. “No. It’s the Veil.” The Veil. An ancient omen—a curtain between the mortal world and the realm of the spirits. For it to descend now meant something catastrophic was drawing near. It meant the boundaries were cracking, and the Hollow Throne was stirring. Her mark burned. Not with the usual golden fire, nor with the black void it had flirted with before. Now, it shimmered a dusky violet—a melding of both. Balance unbalanced.

He laughed out loud, climbing on his horse and speeding down the forest path. The men following him, step into pools of bright red blood running down the fountain of bodies into a pond of lotus and fish. The fish turn belly up, fog rolls in, and the manor becomes a silent graveyard. The cold green, stone pillars, inside the Veil throne room, shimmer with the light of hundreds of candles. Ri Il sat on a carved stone throne, serpents of green coil around the arms and back of the immaculate seat. A low hum echoed around the great hall; Ri Il kneaded his head with his fingers. Looking out at the dozens of Veil members, standing in rows before him, he judged them silently.

he added, quieter—yet somehow more final. Then, in a low breath that raised goosebumps on her skin: “And when the veil falls… I will be the first to see.” Elianna’s knees nearly gave way. But he stepped back, the pressure of his presence retreating like a wave drawn out to sea. “You may go,” he said simply. And just like that, the darkness began to recede. A faint glow emerged from behind the throne—moonlight, soft and cold, filtering through a carved window high above. It cast long shadows across the floor and glinted off his obsidian armor.

"...Impossible." It had been with me every conscious moment I could remember. Even in sleep, even in the deepest silence of the Northern Gates at three in the morning, it was there, a constant presence like a second heartbeat that I had learned to manage rather than remove. The priestess had told me years ago that my veiled bride would calm what no one else could. I had assumed she meant the loneliness, or the control, or the weight of the title. I had not understood that she meant this.

It’s beautiful. And merciless. --- The Throne Room The doors open without being touched. Inside, the air is colder. Older. The throne room stretches impossibly wide, pillars carved with the histories of bonds, wars, and crowns. At the far end sits the Lunar Throne, crescent-shaped and glowing faintly. Three figures stand before it. The High Seer—eyes silvered with age and prophecy. The Regent Queen—elegant, severe, wearing a crown that hums with restraint.

The air carried tender moss bud, resinous pine needles, and the fore-scent of ceremonial incense. “This drape is too dense,” I said softly to the nearest decorator, a young lycan female. “It won’t let the moonlight through. Replace it with a sheer veil. The rite must be seen… not only heard.” She nodded and darted off. At the center, before the glowing stone dais, the throne awaited—not the usual royal seat, but the ancient Moonlight Throne: carved gray moonstone veined in silver, which glows at the full. Before it, on its own plinth, the Moonlight Crown hovered: an openwork silver crescent set with luminous, ensorcelled moon-crystals. Not a jewel. A legacy.