The Viridescent Crown Novels & Stories

“I’ve been doting on her for years, so she won’t be able to leave my side. We’ve never been separated for so long, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. It’ll be easy for me to make her happy again when I see her next time. I’ve already bought an island for her. She loves scuba diving.” Then, his voice turned serious. “Don’t be jealous. I’ll prepare even more gifts for you and our pup. What belongs to me belongs to you.” The call ended, and the crowd burst into an uproar. Someone grabbed a chair to hit me! “You really are a shameless mistress! I’m going to kill that illegitimate child of yours!” Despair filled my entire being… Bam! Someone blocked the chair with their arm, and it shattere

The silence explodes into a terrific burst of merriment as the Banshee Elder concludes her spirit-inspiring speech and the Pixies lift the cover from the item in her hands to reveal a breath-taking crown, crafted from delicate silver filigree and adorned with glittering gemstones. I inhale sharply and solidify my composure as she lifts the crown high and settles it onto my head. It’s such a magical moment as I shudder from the might and power imbued in the glorious relic that infuses its unparalleled eminence into my being. Asserting and acknowledging my rightful place as the Fae Queen. Everyone’s merry acceptance swooshes through me like the enchanting breeze, inspiring the burst of iridesc

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

"I promise." "Good." As before a sickly sweet scent emanated from the box, though it was a slightly different from the first. I guessed there would be flower petals inside like the first time, though possibly a different species. "Here we go," I said, opening the box and peering inside. Sure enough, the piece of the crown lay on top of a bed of violet colored petals. The emeralds embedded within the crown twinkled in the low light. I tipped the container, allowing the petals to fall to the ground as my fingers brushed against the cold metal crown. Immediately, the petals found purchase in the rock and burrowed deep within. Smoke billowed up, thickening and taking shape until an assassin stoo

“This is not a circlet kissed by moons or forged by gods.” She turned in a slow circle. “This is pain made visible. This is grief made iron. This is every name they buried to build their empires.” She paused. Let her voice drop. “This is mine.” Venn spoke. “Will you place it on your head?” Sirelia looked at him. “No.” She set the crown on the altar. “Let it crown itself.” The flames beneath the altar flared. And the crown rose. It hovered. Spinning slowly. Blood wept from its edges.

Something massive stirred in the shadows. A low hum thrummed through the forest like a warning. Kael tensed. “Stay behind me.” From the trees burst a blur of obsidian and violet light—whipping like smoke but with the weight of iron. A shape flickered in and out of visibility: a crown, hovering, spinning, thorns twisting like tendrils. The Mireling Crown. Even I knew what it was before Kael said it.

Each one carried something. A piece of bone. A vial of blood. A scrap of black lace. And one of them—taller than the rest, her veil as long as a train of smoke—stepped forward. In her hands, she held it. The crown. Made of dead rose petals and twisted metal. The thorns still wet with something darker than blood. It pulsed faintly, as though alive. I took a step back. Ethan—or what was left of him—stood behind me. He didn’t say a word.

"Read whatever story the pirates have copied for you. The crown will be pleased." The officer colored. It made him generous; he broke the seal with his nail. He wasn't careful. The wax gave with a soft, foolish pop. He unrolled the parchment. His lips moved. He read a language he didn't speak and pretended he did. He reached the initials and stopped pretending. "What is this," he whispered, as if the air might explain. "Who...who countersigned..." "House Morcant," Kade said. "And the queen of Avarayne."

The car doors swung open in unison, and a stream of figures in black poured into the banquet hall. Beneath their jackets, the subtle outlines of guns hinted at danger, a chill of menace in the air. A bodyguard with utmost respect opened the door of the central stretch limo. William Vincent, the iron-fisted ruler of Northland's shadowy corners, clad in a sleek black trench coat, walked over the glittering carpet of broken glass towards me. He was the man behind the mysterious calls, my mentor in all things firearms, my ace in the hole. William dropped to one knee before me, indifferent to the shards of glass slicing through his pricey pants.

The driver clicks to open the door and moves a bit to the sides. Dark red heavy shoes with a sharp point in the front land out of the gate on the ground. A light brown surcoat over a golden and white tunic sways out with a tall and wide man. The golden crown shines brightly on his head. Light brown skin with a darker shade of brown beards is under the green eyes.