Throne Of The Fallen Vk Novels & Stories

“Tell me.” Draven drew in a deep breath, “it went like this: The wolf with fire in her veins will return to reclaim her throne. She would build it on the bones of her enemies and all those who refuse to bend to her rule. Her path is marked with blood and destruction, take heed for the vanquisher is set to return.” I held tightly onto my chair as I felt the blood drain from my head straight down to my toes, “vanquisher! Does that mean she was the first vanquisher?”

Chapter 93 Alina's POV The wind carried the scent of ashes, yet no fire burned around us. The air inside Viktor’s stronghold had shifted from icy suffocation to something thick and stagnant, like the breath held after a scream. We stood in the heart of what had once been his empire, surrounded by fractured marble and blood-spattered shadows. My blade still dripped crimson, and Viktor’s body lay crumpled before his throne—the god-king slain by the very daughter he thought he owned.

The walls were breathing now—contracting and expanding, as though the Vale itself had grown lungs. And then he saw him. Rhovan stood—or what was left of him—at the base of the pit. The man who had once been commander of the Western Guard was gone. In his place stood something sculpted out of shadow and ember-light, veins burning crimson under translucent skin. His eyes were pits of molten gold. His voice, when it came, was both whisper and roar. “Draven Thorn. Still alive.” Draven’s fingers tightened on the sword hilt. “You should’ve stayed dead.”

Alpha Vane laughed, his face twisted in a mask of triumph as the final, brightest ribbon of violet energy left Aeron’s chest. "I have it!" Vane shouted. "The power of the Moon Throne is mine!" But the ribbon didn't enter the staff. The energy suddenly stopped. It froze in mid-air, vibrating with a frequency that made the Standing Stones begin to crack. Aeron’s eyes snapped open. They weren't just white now; they were deep, infinite black, filled with a billion swirling stars. The "Void" Vane had summoned wasn't a match for the boy; it was a drop of ink in an ocean of light.

The moment her fingers touched the flame, the world vanished. --- The Vision She stood alone on a barren battlefield. The sky was red, ash fell like snow, and the ground was cracked with rivers of blood. Wolves—hundreds of them—lay dead. Some bore the mark of the High Clans. Others wore Kael’s crest. In the center stood the Throne. And on it—the Thirteenth. He looked at her. Smiled. “This is what you’ll bring,” he said. “No matter how hard you fight.” Aria trembled. “You’re wrong.”

Blood spilled like ink down his armor, he collapsed to his knees, and fell. A collective cry of horror rose around me. Even though I’d known deep down how this would end, it still struck like ice to my bones. Rhydan ran to him and cradled him as the last light faded from Thorne’s eyes, but that wasn’t the end. A glow began to spread through the fallen Alpha’s chest, soft and blue. It was the Heartstone. It pulsed once, then rose from his body, detaching from the lifeless form. The crowd fell into breathless silence.

He hit the wall with a thud then that caused Jasmine to worry and cover her mouth. “Xavier!” She screamed for him, about to run until one of them grabbed her arm. Something happened. Something pulsated with its touch like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Jasmine turned to look at the Guild member as the Guild member looked upset at her. A force unknown to Jasmine ignited and pushed Jasmine and the Guild yards apart from each other. Jasmine went flying into the basement falling down the stairs from the drawback force.

It hurt my ego that I had to deal with my mate’s past lover because I was afraid that she’d return to him. “Now, if you understand me, tell me, where is Winter?” Brandon still kept his mouth shut, which only drove me and Ace mad. But that didn’t last long because a second after, a familiar scent infiltrated my sense. It was so potent that I almost got high on it. “Mr. Verlice,” Kayden’s words stopped as he tried to stay focused. “I think you should go and find her. She must be in pain.” “Deal with him.”

I pushed him over the edge. Sebastian's face twisted in rage as he bellowed, "Out! Get out now!" The door slammed shut behind me. I let out a wry chuckle, picked up a stray garment from the floor, and tucked it into my suitcase. In the dimly lit room of the grand villa, Rosa's voice trembled with a mix of urgency and regret. "Don, this is all my fault. I've put you in such a tough spot. Maybe I should just hand the title of Mrs. back to Ms. DeLuca?"

For years Sonja had tried to be part of the coven, but her resentment at them for sealing Warwick in with the vampires always stood in the way, making it impossible for her to feel like she belonged. Stella understood her rage all too well. It could have easily been her. Months prior, she'd given birth to Rachel, and if her daughter was in Shadowbrooke on the night of the fateful court, and not at her grandparents' place two towns over, it would have been Rachel's blood that sealed the forsaken. Sonja's life—her rage, regrets, and inability to communicate what her guilt had done to her and was still doing to her—could all have been hers.