Throne Of War Novels & Stories

Instead he had found a Queen and her Prince. I took a step forward. The floorboards groaned under my weight. I let out a low rumble. It vibrated through the room. Leave. Or I will eat your heart. Thorne was a sadist but he was not suicidal. He knew he could not defeat a Royal Lycan in close combat. His dark magic was useless against my pure light. "This is not over," Thorne spat. He sheathed his sword. "The war has just begun." He turned and ran into the night.

The throne was built on the ashes of the seven humans who initiated the war and the skull of their leader mounted on top, a reminder of what's to come if the humans try to go to war with them again. Walking up to the throne, I pause and look at it, a remainder of all the responsibilities I had on my shoulders, the weight of the world. My crown rested on the armrest, gleaming under the sunlight filtering in from the windows, the crown has 10 gems, each representing a pack. With a sigh I sat on the throne and waited for the arrival of the humans as they were led in. Lyra walks in not long after offering me a curt nod then taking her sit in one of the four chairs in front of me.

‎ ‎Because I see what he didn’t say, what he can’t hide. ‎ ‎He is preparing for war. ‎ ‎The room began to clear as the guards and servants hesitantly return to clean up the chaos. The nobles scurry out, their faces pale and fearful, whispering prayers to the Goddess. ‎ ‎Dravon turns to Thorne who has stayed through it all. ‎“Call the generals,” he says suddenly, his tone turning sharp. “Summon the War Council, we have a battle to prepare for.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

She held my hand, urging His Majesty to bring my marriage forward because she feared I would regret this. His Majesty looked pleased, too. He and my husband-to-be, Gideon Swain, were blood brothers. Naturally, the bond between them was stronger than others. I knew little about Gideon, even in my past life. All I knew was that he had a reputation for being a devil incarnate. He was stationed with the army in Morbeck with the task of guarding the nation's borders and rarely returned to the capital. That was why none of the noble ladies in the capital wanted to marry him.

Devon POV: Slumping on my seat in my office, I sighed deeply. This was the first time in the thousands of years I've lived that I'd think about someone so much. The most annoying thing was that my thoughts weren't occupied by a female, but a male at that! " I'm homophobic, for goodness’ sake!” I yelled and smashed the wine filled glass I was formerly twirling. I ran my fingers through my hair, praying to the goddess that he'd leave my thought, but soon got interrupted when the door was slammed open.

“I’ve heard the rumors. A Celestial Wolf, the last Silvermoon heir. I wanted to meet you for myself. To extend an invitation.” “I’m not looking for a pack.” “You’ve found one,” Kade said, his voice a low growl. “She’s Blackthorn now.” Dominic’s eyes flickered between us, and a knowing smile crossed his face. “Ah. The mate bond. I should have guessed. Congratulations.” “Thank you,” I said, surprised by his genuine warmth. “Why did you really come here?” “Because war is coming.” Dominic’s expression turned grave. “Multiple packs are searching for you. Some want to ally with you. Others want to control you. And a few want you dead before you can become a threat.”

“But the Blood Altar ritual still happens in three nights. To awaken your full power. My terms.” Luna’s blood went cold. Before she could answer, the ground shook. A horn sounded across the Court. Not Blood Moon. Not Silver Moon. Something else. Nyra paled. “The Warlords. They felt the power shift. They’re coming for the throne.” Valen’s red eyes went cold again. King again. “Then we have three nights to make you a weapon, daughter. Or they’ll tear this Court apart.” He looked at Luna. Then at Damian. “Welcome to war, children.”

“The council is ready.” Seraphine closed her eyes briefly. Then she turned. Inside the throne hall, a long stone table stretched across the chamber. Torches burned along the walls, their flames flickering across ancient banners that represented each race. At the head of the hall stood the throne. It had not existed before the war. The throne had been carved from the black crystal that remained after the Veil nearly shattered. Veins of silver light pulsed through the stone like a living heartbeat. It was not just a seat of power.

But the warehouse was empty now, cleaned, nothing remaining of the violence that had occurred there. Except for a message spray-painted across the wall in blood-red letters: **"THE KING WILL FALL. THE THRONE AWAITS A STRONGER HAND."** The room went silent. "When was this done?" Dante's voice was dangerously quiet. "Sometime in the last three hours. After we cleaned the site." Massimo switched to another camera angle. "But that's not all. Look at this."

“What is coming?” Thorne looked up. And his eyes were storm-dark. “The war. Between the old gods and the bloodless kings. Between Lycan law… and prophecy buried in ash.” Elara stared down at the still-glowing book. She had come searching for answers. But she had found a legacy burning like fire in her hands. A crown carved from silence, sealed in blood. And it had already chosen her.