Throne Of The Fallen Audiobook Free นิยาย & เรื่องราว

A name that had never been spoken aloud since. She reached for him. He didn’t flinch. But the air around them did. They could almost see the air shift. A wind surged through the chamber, lifting dust and breaking light into swirling patterns. Glyphs along the walls lit up, pulsing with golden flame. And then they heard it. A deep, layered voice—not male or female. Something older. “He is the seed and the scythe. The beginning and the undoing. The blood of two fallen thrones, awakened too soon.”

He didn’t notice the way my tone clipped, or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. “The Thornevales,” he continued, his voice growing more intense, “they sit on a throne built from the blood of everyone beneath them. You know it. You’ve seen it. They let the hungry starve. They watch people beg for healing, for shelter, for a chance and they look the other way unless that person has a little power they can use. Or worse—unless they’re useful for manipulation.” He spat the word like it tasted sour in his mouth. But I was also adamant.

I walked up the stairs. "Elowen!" he wailed. I didn't stop. Malachi's hand slid into mine. His power was comfort. "The throne is ready, for you, little star, " he whispered. Behind us a thousand angry wolves rose. They converged on the Alpha who had lost everything.

Otsana’s gold mark burned beside me, but its light bent toward the throne like a flame leaning toward wind. Ashina sobbed harder, gripping her stomach while Maelor’s heartbeat echoed through the black bone like drums beneath a coronation hall. The first Blood Feather book floated above the throne, no longer thrashing, no longer screaming, but opening itself like a servant obeying its true master. A circle of old blood appeared around the throne’s base, then spread outward until it touched Blackfang warriors and Northridge nobles alike. Conri shouted orders, but the blood ignored every blade, every title, and every frightened foot trying to step away.

The entity inside her—the darkness that had followed her through lifetimes—howled, lashing against her ribs, her skull, her soul. It wanted control. It wanted to survive. But she had already made her choice. “You are not my master.” Lillian’s voice was steel, her will unyielding. The throne shuddered violently. The cracks deepened. The silver light exploded outward. And then— The darkness screamed one last time—before it shattered. The Throne Falls The force of the explosion sent Lillian flying backward. Aedric was there in an instant, catching her before she hit the ground. The throne—the symbol of the Moonborn rule—was no more.

Luckily, we could understand their language. My best friend, Autumn Cox, was a modern-day thrill-seeking romance expert. Once she understood what the chieftain meant, she almost instantly chose a handsome and elegant serpent man. "What a piece of cake! What's there to be afraid of?" she whispered to me, clearly excited. This tribe was probably a paradise to her. She then glanced at the rest, and she said, "Lynn, you're soft by nature. Don't choose someone too attractive. It would be awful if another woman stole him. Those plain-looking ones seem nice."

Only a deepening murk from which a voice was born. And that voice reverberated through everything. Through the stone. Through Rowan’s body. Through my chest. “You wait too long, Rowan. The throne will not come to you.” I felt Rowan flinch, stammering excuses—he had tried, he had sought the packs’ allegiance. But the voice cut him down, dripping disdain: “Fear is not deep enough. Their world has not yet collapsed. You whisper when you should be howling.” And then—I heard my own name.

Alexander The next day, I check in on Max, the new dungeon keeper. I verify with the pocket of Evelyn within me to make sure she’s asleep before I head down there. Max is reading a book on the new stool I brought down after shattering the last one in anger. His mind is calm, devoid of torturous thoughts like how I’d found Jonesy, so that’s good. He looks up from his book as I trot down the stone steps, smiling politely as he places his bookmark. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

I said, pressing my forehead to his, “that if I am going to rule hell, I’m ruling it with you. We rise together. Or we fall together.” A sound escaped him—a low, ragged breath that shook. “Sarai…” His voice broke. “I would follow you into fire.” “Then sit,” I whispered. He took my hand. And we sat. ⸻ THE ASCENSION The moment we touched the throne, the world erupted. A scream of shadow. A burst of fire. A shockwave of power that tore through the cavern like a hurricane. The throne latched onto us—literally clamping around our bodies like living stone.

I raised the golf club and viciously swung it at her favourite crystal ornament. At that same moment, my stomach had a sudden, bad cramp. I blacked out from the pain and lost my footing. Whitney called out my name in a panic, "Harvey!" That was the last sound I heard before I fell unconscious. … When I opened my eyes, I was already in the hospital. Whitney was sitting beside my bed, holding a medical report. There was a swirl of mixed emotions in her expression. The anxiety in her eyes dissolved when she noticed I was awake.