The Viridescent Crown Novels & Stories

“The witch is dead, her blood is gone, my father’s lab is next, we burn it, we break the rest of his work, you get your minds back.” Murmurs. Hope. Draven steps to me, careful. “The crown,” he says. “Can you take it off.” I touch it. It burns. “I don’t know.” “Try,” he says. “For me.” I pull. Pain rips through my skull, and the crown comes away, blood on the tines. It crumbles to ash in my hand. The ferals gasp, some falling, some crying, as if a string got cut.

One of the demands. “You are right none of them have the power, but we do,” Two voices say in unison. The vamps turn around, and you can see the terror in their eyes. Behind them stand Mykenzie and Kylani. HOLEY FUCKING SHIT! They are standing there, and you can feel the power floating in the air. Mykenzie is in a dark forest green dress that wraps around her body, just barely covering it. Kylani has on a similar dress, only in navy blue. I look at Kaleb, and he is practically drooling. They both have on these thigh-high boots in metallic silver. They both have crowns on their heads that are unbelievably gorgeous. They are made of the same black metal as all their jewellery, with a

Along the interior rim, a molten vein of alchemical glass - a deep ember-red - runs like a breathing heartbeat. Five asymmetrically placed black obsidian shards jut skyward, each carved into a razor’s edge, catching the light like falling stars. Threaded between the obsidian, pale moonstones glow with inner fire. Tiny silver filaments trace lunar phases around each gem. Across the front arch, grandfather inscribed a spiral of war-runes in obsidian ink. Flanking each temple are low-relief engravings of a phoenix’s upraised wing, rendered in platinum flash, mirroring Emberlance’s imagery. The crown’s underside is padded with midnight-blue silk from the Veiled Looms of Varistith. Finally, a hid

“Crowns aren’t just rhinestones and gold, they are made up of discipline, determinant and a hard-to-find alloy called courage, do you deem yourself worthy of the such a title?” I darted my tongue to lick my dry lips as I nodded my head as the man muttered. “I do,” “With the power of god, I may pronounce you as the Queen of Nitholirc, wife of Lords of Nitholirc and hope of people,” My heart fluttered as he gently picked the crown with his both hands and Claus bowed slightly as he placed it on his head as people cheered and clapped. My chest tightened with uneasiness, and I swallowed the lump of nervousness in my throat.

What had once been a faint discoloration had deepened into something unmistakable. A crescent curved along the side of my neck just below my jaw, its edges soft and blurred like a bruise blooming beneath the skin. The color settled into shades of deep indigo and muted violet, darker toward the outer arc, where the shape sharpened into faint, clawed ridges. The curve looked almost like a storm-wind sweeping across my throat. At the center of the crescent, a narrow lightning vein cut downward. It was thin, jagged, pale silver against the darker tones surrounding it. Not bright enough to glow, but bright enough that the shape stood out sharply if someone looked closely.

“I want you honest.” She turned to Vow again. “And what happens if the Crown lies?” There was a beat of silence. Then—for the first and last time—Triarch Vow spoke. “If the Crown lies,” the voice rasped through the hood, genderless and sharp as glass, “then the city burns.” Later, in a room without screens, without files, without exits—he handed her a coat. Black. Fitted. Cut like armor. “You’re inside now,” Domenik said. “You dress like it.”

“We regret the haste.” Alina met her gaze steadily. “Then leave.” Elowen smiled thinly. “We cannot.” Cael shifted half a step forward. Elowen’s eyes flicked to him. “Captain.” He did not answer. The clerics moved past Elowen and toward the center of the sanctuary, where a low stone table had been hastily cleared. One of them carried a covered object wrapped in thick cloth. Alina’s chest tightened. The Crown. Not the symbol the court liked to display, polished and framed by banners, but the true thing. The Ember Crown, modest and unassuming, dangerous precisely because it refused spectacle.

I knelt in front of her, my hands gripping her face as I pressed my forehead against hers. "You're mine," I said, my voice raw. "No ancient law, no shadow princess, no cosmic bullshit will ever change that." "Yours," she agreed, her voice barely a whisper. "Only yours." The Void Crown materialized above the throne, hovering in midair like a promise. It was made of pure obsidian and silver, set with a single crimson jewel that pulsed with ancient power. The elders watched with hungry eyes as it descended toward Lilith's head.

Looking around him, he noticed that it was a truly beautiful place, although due to its size it seemed lonely, he realized that apart from Keil, there was no one else. Near the place where he was sitting he noticed a simple, but elegant black cane, which was floating motionless a short distance away and on his legs as if he were waiting for its owner was a crown of grayish metal with three prongs, in The base of each of those prongs was a beautiful gem, the gems on each side being pure white and absolute black, the one in the center had all the colors of the rainbow and was slowly changing from one side to the other. tonality. He casually placed the crown on his head, but doing that was a te

“Princess Deloris, will you uphold the customs and duties of the crown?” I nod my head. “I will.” The same voice booms again and snaps me yet again to attention. “Princess Deloris, do you accept the crown?” Again, I nod. “I do.” A couple of clergy step forward. One puts the crown on my head, while the other places the royal golden egg with my family’s crest in my hand. My eyelids again dip, but a slight pain in my shoulder has me whipping my eyelids wide open again.