Throne Of The Fallen Kindle Novels & Stories

“Your Grace, we need to kill Shuntha,'' Seti walked alongside Raiden as he made his way to the icy throne. The throne wasn’t made of ice but metal that was painted white, it was almost a century old. It didn’t rust, it wasn’t worn down, the paint wasn’t chipped, and it looked like it had just been crafted. Five fairies that were part of the kingdom forged the throne with magic, the fairies were once respected and loved; until King Atticruss and Queen, Tressa feared them and spread hatred amongst the people.

The ancient throne split down the middle. And the final chain binding the Fallen King... began to break.

He pulled himself upward as the false king tore the crown from my head. Cold rushed through me. The royal mark dimmed. The false king raised the crown. The child screamed. The sound ripped through Azure Tide. Every tower bent toward the open heart. The sea vanished. Not drained. Gone. We fell onto black stone. Raiken hit beside me. The false king landed on his feet, crown still in hand. A throne room formed around us. Columns rose from darkness, carved with serpents swallowing wolves. Red water ran through channels in the floor. At the far end stood a throne shaped from bones and black coral.

And there it stood. The Blood Throne. It was carved from obsidian, veins of red crystal pulsing through it like a beating heart. The floor was cracked around it, as though the throne had erupted from the earth. Before it knelt a man. Or what was left of one. He was bone and ash wrapped in black robes. His hair was silver, his skin like charred marble. He did not look up—he only whispered in a language none of them understood. Aelin whimpered. “He’s trying to bind to me. To make me sit.”

A thin fracture raced through the silver thorns, spidering outward like lightning frozen in metal. The glow in Selene’s eyes dimmed, not extinguished but softened, as if something ancient had been exhaled. With a gasp that wasn’t quite her own, Selene reached up, her fingers trembled as they touched the crown, and it shattered. Fragments of it fell like razor petals, vanishing before they hit the dais. Selene slumped forward in the throne, the illusion folding in on itself. Her cloak dissolved into soot. The throne crumbled with a long, groaning sigh, shedding centuries of stillness in a heartbeat.

he said quietly, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the air like distant thunder. Throne lifted his head with deliberate slowness, gray eyes gleaming with malicious glee through swollen lids. "I simply find it interesting," he rasped, voice hoarse from disuse and abuse, "how quickly love turns monsters so... predictable." Silence crashed down, thick and electric. Then Kael moved—blindingly fast, a blur of lethal precision. His fist drove into Throne's stomach with bone-crushing force, the impact reverberating off the walls and cracking the stone behind the elder's back. Throne choked violently, a wet gurgle escaping as blood sprayed from his lips, chains groaning under the strain of

Now, those same carvings were scorched and corrupted, their faces cracked or defaced, their once noble symbolism consumed by vines twisted with shadow. She walked barefoot over cold stone, feet silent but commanding, and approached the throne she had taken for herself. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t regal. It was earned—built from shards of her past, from the remnants of her broken crown and shattered heart. At the base of the throne, a massive tome lay open, pages stiff with blood. Not ink. Blood. Her blood. Her daughter's blood. Anyone’s blood she could get her claws on. She ran her fingers over the ancient script—language so old that even time itself had forgotten it. The power thrummed ben

The staircase climbed impossibly high into the darkness. Leading nowhere. Or perhaps somewhere far beyond the world. At the very top stood a throne. The throne from my vision. The Throne of Stars. The throne hidden beneath the kingdom. The throne every ancient power was searching for. And seated upon it was a figure. Motionless. Silent. Wrapped in chains made of silver fire. A prisoner. Still asleep. Still bound. Yet somehow more terrifying than anything we had seen so far. The golden eyes immediately focused on it. The thirteen fortresses turned toward it.

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.”

VERITY I watched Usel fall, kicked off Baraqiels sword, as a cry ripped from my throat as her blood sprayed in the air, her limp body barreling toward the ground. Shamshiel raced towards her, a feral noise coming from him as he ran to his daughter. At the same time I heard another voice above the din of battle, Todd had fallen to his knees, his eyes trained on a Nephilim. A Nephilim who had Devon in his hand, as I watched Devon’s head caved in on itself and exploded, his blood splattering the creature in front of him in a crimson red sheen. His scream pierced my ear drums and I felt my heart twist as the Nephilim tossed his body to the ground, where it lay crumpled. Cain moved in front of m