Throne Of The Fallen Audiobook Free Novels & Stories

The moonlight poured over them in silver streams as they clung together, hearts pounding, blood singing. Dawn bled across the sky as Nyra awoke in Urhan’s arms, the battlefield quiet. The Throne of Bones loomed behind them, now scarred by their union. But when Nyra stirred, she noticed the throne shifting, bones grinding against bone. She propped herself up, muscles sore, and saw what had happened. A section of the throne’s back had collapsed inward. Vertebrae splintered, pelvis fragments scattered like petals. In the hollowed cavity lay… something wrapped in obsidian silk.

His Highness had sent word to him a few days ago that he'd be arriving in a week's time to gather the academy's best as well as strongest fighters. "Yes, we'll take them based on ranking but make it quick, I can't stay here for long." Dane nodded in understanding before leaving the room to tell one of his subordinates to get started on the announcement to the students. When Dane left the room, Lucian turned to Llewellyn and spoke, "More and more people are starting to believe the throne has been corrupted." "If anyone outside the people who already know, should find out about her being the successor," Llewellyn glanced at Katherine briefly before continuing, "Not only will they refuse to be

I said, turning to leave without waiting for a response. After only one step, I felt a strange impact that caused my skull to explode in pain, and I fell to the ground. I struggled to get up, dazed, but a rough hand grabbed my hair and jerked me to my feet, and my wrists were bit by the cold, jagged chains. I tried to summon my wolf powers but failed, leaving me weak, exhausted, and terrified. "preserve your strength. The chains have been enchanted." "You won't be able to shapeshift," Jabor warned.

Falling was not a sensation of movement; it was a sensation of erosion. In the darkness that had no end, Lyra Thorne felt the layers of her identity being peeled away by the sheer pressure of the Silence. The "Shadow Queen," the "Ghost Raven," the "Star-Born"—these titles were heavy weights that the Void simply refused to carry. She reached out through the ink, her fingers clawing at the vacuum. She expected to find nothing. She expected the cold to finally claim the marrow of her bones.

Rogues had staked claims there, which amused me; eventually, it would become mine. We found nothing in the area, though a few rogues caught my attention. Those who refused to cooperate quickly met their demise. Later, Andrew walked in as Melvin and I watched TV. “Bryan,” he called, “one of our trackers has eyes on where Alec and Melinda are hiding.” I raised an eyebrow. “They’re not in the east territory. They’re hiding in the unclaimed land between us and the Stone Warriors Pack,” he explained. I smirked, knowing Melinda wasn’t aware that our daughter had already found her mate—or that Prince and I were no longer at odds.

THE ATLANTIC THRONE: TWO HOURS LATER We didn't land. We were pulled. The Thorne-17 was caught in a tractor-beam of pure gravity, dragging us toward the obsidian throne rising out of the waves. Around the structure, the ocean was boiling, steam rising in thick, violet clouds. As we hit the landing bay, the doors hissed open. A legion of Kingslayers stood waiting, but they weren't the white-obsidian drones of the Council. These were "Primal" Kingslayers—creatures of raw shadow and ancient gold, their armor forged from the very first mercury-veins of the earth.

A heavy, loud thud of Richard's falling body follows, leaving echoes round the throne room. ********************

'Once you fall down there, your physical body, soul and mana energy will fall apart due to the nature of the barrier set in there. '. . the mana flowing in you will be attracted to the closest compatible vessel. . .' Is it going to happen anytime now? Oh yes, he is going to be a significant part of the second destruction of the Kingdom, what an honour. "Thea. . Johann. . " he whispered to himself, facing up from where he believes he fell from. 'I guess this marks the end of it. . .' Having no other choice but to surrender himself, he inhaled the heavy air he grasps, and closed his eyes.

And yet, I had found power here in the past, buried between forgotten scrolls and ancient pages inked with truth. I let my fingers trail along the spines of the books as I walked slowly through the rows, dust clinging to my skin like memory. These books did not fear me. They did not lie to me. They did not twist love into leverage or silence into punishment. They simply were. I stopped in front of a worn leather tome entitled The Fall of Kingdoms, and smiled bitterly. The irony was thick enough to choke on. A book about ruined thrones, resting on the shelf of a woman bound to a crumbling one. The gods truly had a sense of humor—vicious, sharp, and cruel.