Throne War Novels & Stories

‎ ‎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.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Alliance of Shadows Writer's POV The chilling truth of Wren’s ambition – not just control, but replication – sent a ripple of cold dread through the Thorne estate. Noah’s stillness was a constant, haunting reminder of what they had lost, and what the world stood to lose. But grief, for Iris, had hardened into a diamond-sharp resolve. The fight was no longer just for her son's mind; it was for every child, every family, against a future where humanity could be engineered, replicated, and purged of its most fundamental essence. The Thorne family, once isolated in their struggle, now understood that Wren's reach extended far beyond their walls, demanding a new kind of war, fought not just with

“This is my war. My empire. I will not be defeated by the likes of you!” Alaric’s lips curled back in a feral grin, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “You’ve already lost, Thorne. Your army is crumbling. Your warriors are turning on you. It’s over.” Thorne howled in fury, his body trembling with rage. “You think you’ve won? This is only the beginning. I will tear down everything you’ve built. You’ll never have peace.”

This one didn’t knock. He appeared in the throne room in a flash of silver light and black smoke, dropping to one knee before us. He was old. Older than Darius. His robes were marked with symbols I didn’t recognize, and his eyes were pure white. “I am Magister Thorne of the Arcane Council,” he said, voice echoing in the chamber. “I come as the last neutral party before war begins. The other realms are mobilizing. They will not wait long.” He looked at Aria. Really looked, and his white eyes widened.

In one hand, she held a talon—blackened and cracked, the last remnant of the Kilimane warlord she had slain. She smiled. “Pitiful,” she whispered, echoing the word her kind loved so much. “He thought his roar could rival mine.” The talon crumbled to ash between her fingers, vanishing into a curl of flame before it ever kissed the floor. She raised her hand, unhurried, and rested it on the arm of her throne. The legendary Throne of Flames. Gold hissed beneath her touch yet never burned her.

Deal with that fact, I say inwardly, and take a deep breath. “What do you want, Aria?” Thorne asks again, firmly this time around. “I want you to stop fighting my brother, please,” I tell him. “This war has gone on long enough.” He huffs, his gaze lingering on my boobs a little longer than it should, and I can swear that I see his eyes darken. But then he looks away, focusing his eyes on something else. “My council of elders are the ones who spearhead all the retaliation attacks,” he curtly responds. “I have nothing to do with it.”

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.

Gael, Hakeem, and I had passed out after four hours of non-stop mating. I was sandwiched between my two men, my head resting on Hakeem’s chest and Gael’s leg and arm thrown over both of us as he snuggled into my back. I felt as if I had just fallen asleep when flashes and fragments of dreams began to play through my mind. They were disjointed, speeding through my mind almost too fast to catch. There is Charlie holding two pups in her arms, the pack being attacked on the western front, Arya fallen to her knees sobbing in the middle of a battlefield, funeral pyres, me looking down at my pregnant stomach with Gael and Hakeem smiling down at me, whoops of victory and wails of defeat. As the

Riley obeyed. I made to follow her, but Killian placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He turned to face the room, and I turned with him. “Good afternoon.” Killian’s voice boomed in the hall. The room fell into a deep hush, every eye turned to him, even the cubs. “As you all know, there is trouble at our borders. We are at war, and that war grows closer every day. There are Alphas on the way to our compound as we speak. They bring warriors and reinforcements.”

Nora picked up the folded paper. She didn't open it. She held it. "You want the throne," she said. "Yes." "And you want me to trust you." "Yes." "Those two things are going to conflict at some point." "Probably," he said. "When they do, I'll tell you." He held her gaze without wavering. "I want the throne through legitimate succession. If Caspian fulfills the anchor requirement and succeeds, the succession is his by right and I'll accept that." He paused. "What I won't accept is the succession being built on an arrangement that's being managed dishonestly. But then. if the anchor is being kept in the dark about the terms of her own arrangement