Vantablack Crown Novels & Stories

The king grabbed the handle and saw that it was a dagger exquisitely made. The tip of the handle was a mixture of silver and gold seemingly woven over each other. Between the handle and the blade was a dark grey gemstone shaped like a shield and its crossguard and quillon were shaped like that of a wave. Securing the dark grey gemstone, two silver and gold snakes crossed over each other with their tails ending at the edge of the crossguard.

A faint glow pulsed like its own heart beat a shape, curved mark that was glowing beneath the sleeve of my leathers, a mark only seen that I have only seen in books. The Lunar Bond. She looked up. Across the table, Aeryn Valecrow met her gaze again. In that moment she felt terrified and unafraid at the same moment. Nemphis did not like it but craved it all at once. She pushed forward even more.

Her expression was one of surprise, as was mine, which soon after became serious; Prince Crowther was sitting next to her, everyone stared at me, I saluted the commander who broke the awkward silence. _______ This is Blacke Livet, one of the best we currently have in the corporation, my eyes fell to Ayla's that brought an expression that I couldn't decipher - Mr. Livet, will accompany Miss Ayla throughout our corporation, she chose military area to exercise the next test of the dispute for the Diamond crown .. - I nodded in a positive sign understanding the reason why she was there - Your Highness, you can choose to go with them or stay here in my company... Nathan Crowther is the scum of al

Despite her delicate condition, she stood upright, exuding an unshakeable confidence and undeniable power. Beside her stood a slightly older woman, Luna Verona, who was equally beautiful, and her presence was equally commanding. Her silver-streaked hair framed a face that bore the wisdom of battles and the love of a mother. Her smile was permanently on her face, and her eyes were locked on the priest before them who held a velvet pillow, upon which rested a crown unlike any other. The Crimson crown’s diamond embedded in its centre, which gleamed fiercely, reflecting all lights upon it in shimmers of colours, pulsing with energy that seemed alive. It was a crown only worn by the crimson Alpha

the voice spoke, mournful. "Why?" it asked. "No. It was for you," that was my answer. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe one day I would. I squinted. A flood of light poured in, blinding me. Before I lost my sight— I swiftly retrieved the crown on my head. A quick glimpse. My heart lurched. It was a crown— a black one. "Magnificent," I whispered, as my blood boiled in that second. Then everything went white. I and the crown vanished into it.

Helena watched, breath caught. "Blythe..." Blythe lifted the crown. The metal was warm, as though the blood of those who'd fought still pulsed within it. She turned it in her hands. Not polished. Not royal. Real. Xavier stepped forward. "That's not the crown they gave you." "No," she murmured. "It's the one I earned." She straightened and placed the crown on her head. A hush fell. The Umbra warriors bowed their heads. Even Marrow lowered her gaze.

Something in his eyes, anticipation, perhaps, or nervousness… made me turn to face him fully. “What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward the box. Instead of answering, he stepped forward and lifted the lid. My hand flew to my mouth, a small gasp escaping before I could catch it. Nestled on black velvet lay a delicate crown, not the heavy, ostentatious thing I’d imagined when he mentioned royal regalia, but something ethereal and perfect. White gold twisted into intricate patterns that reminded me of moonlight on water, with moonstones scattered throughout like stars in a night sky.

“Yes?” “If you take the crown, you can’t have it back.” My chest tightened. “What crown?” She pointed behind me, and I turned and saw it. That on the other side of the ruins, implanted in a tree split down the middle by lightning—a circle of black stone, wrought through with a network of pale veins of silver. It wasn't Vira’s. Not Kaelen’s and not Sabrina’s. It looked older and was waiting. “Where did it come from?” “Nope,” Damien said, walking up behind me.

The driver clicks to open the door and moves a bit to the sides. Dark red heavy shoes with a sharp point in the front land out of the gate on the ground. A light brown surcoat over a golden and white tunic sways out with a tall and wide man. The golden crown shines brightly on his head. Light brown skin with a darker shade of brown beards is under the green eyes.

Althea fought her way back to Argos for Lysandros and helped him reclaim the throne, only to find herself trapped in the enemy kingdom of Thrace, wearing a slave's collar for three full years. Through three years of mortal danger, being dragged behind chariots, and bone-chilling winters, Althea survived on a single conviction: her betrothed, Lysandros, would come to rescue her. But when she finally set foot in the royal city again, what awaited her was not an embrace. It was a heavy golden laurel crown pressed against her brow, the Sacred Flame seal clutched in another woman's hand, and a royal heir growing in that woman's womb. She clung to one last hope: perhaps they had cast her aside onl