Vantablack Crown Novels & Stories

He used the information from Shahin for the whereabouts of Darina and Prince Thariem. Eight days past and he returned to the capital of Clapestris with many prisoners of war. Entered with him to the main gates of the city are the wagons of spoils. The one that is highlighted among them was Darina in the cage. There is a blood-stained steel helmet beside her. It is a known helmet always worn by Prince Thariem when mounted for campaigns. The Clapestrisians filled the sides of the streets with their sighs and unexplained hopes. The Agabean Royal Knight has returned but is no better than them.

Jeffrey was the first to get out of one of the cars. He raised his phone and snapped a photo of my front door, shouting, "We're here! First stop of the day, getting the Toyota Crown bridal car!" The others filed out one after another. Aunt Mindy, wearing a maroon colored jacket, immediately pulled out her phone and started livestreaming as soon as she stepped down. "Today is my son's big day! I'm livestreaming the ultra-rare old Toyota Crown that most people have never seen! Let me show you what real luxury looks like!"

The words landed heavily. Then the Third Crown pulsed. Truth. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. Then Ava immediately pointed. Then: "I hate him already." Then Henry adjusted his glasses. Then: "What's his Crown?" Valen's expression darkened. Then: "The Crown of Dominion." Silence. Then Thomas felt something. The First Crown reacted. Authority. The Fourth Crown reacted. Resolve. Then Valen nodded. Then: "The Crown of Dominion is a corrupted twin of your Crown of Authority."

Thousands of loyal wolves from every allied pack stand in hushed silence as the ancient elders step forward, lifting the heavy, gleaming Eternal Silver Crown and placing it firmly upon my head. The atmosphere is charged with a profound, reverent awe that commands absolute stillness across the entire summit. The crown, forged from the purest starlight-infused metal of the first vault, hums with a familiar, comforting resonance against my brow, anchoring my spirit to the collective heartbeat of our united people.

OURS. The word echoed through his mind with the force of a command, and Kael felt his careful control begin to crack. He glanced back at the common room. The innkeeper was watching him with narrowed eyes, perhaps wondering if this particular buyer would be trouble after all. The other patrons had returned to their drinks, unaware that the Crown Prince of Virelion was standing ten feet away, struggling not to shift and tear the entire building apart to get to whatever—*whoever*—waited below.

“I want you honest.” She turned to Vow again. “And what happens if the Crown lies?” There was a beat of silence. Then—for the first and last time—Triarch Vow spoke. “If the Crown lies,” the voice rasped through the hood, genderless and sharp as glass, “then the city burns.” Later, in a room without screens, without files, without exits—he handed her a coat. Black. Fitted. Cut like armor. “You’re inside now,” Domenik said. “You dress like it.”

“I know.” “You can tell me to stop.” Jamie looked at him. Really looked. The scar. The control. The restraint that felt like it was holding something dangerous in check. “I don’t want you to stop,” Jamie said, then winced. “I mean….” Adrian didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just nodded, like that answer fit into something he’d already decided. “Good,” he said. Behind them, unseen but aware, La Corona Nera watched. And after midnight, Bar Della Luna closed its doors, keeping its secrets, for now.

Her crown fell to the marble floor with a clear clang, there seems also to be a clanging sound of someone's sword falling to the ground outside the palace gates. The deep red gem on the crown shattered and scattered. Warm blood down the steps on the cold ground, slowly spreading, reminiscent of the shallow creek she used to play in barefoot as a child. This golden hall of Avalon became her grave, swallowing her bones, burying her life. Outside, the sun shone on the snow, melting it bit by bit…

They mourned him and continue to do so. Someone had to take over now that the King was gone, and the young Crown Prince is doing an excellent job of carrying on his father's legacy. He's skilled at making snap decisions, and he's a natural leader. Not to mention that he's quite attractive. Anastasia isn't the only girl in the kingdom who fantasizes about him. When she sees him pass by, she can't help but steal a glimpse at him. If word gets out that she secretly admires the Prince, she'll most likely be beaten to death, but who can blame her? Despite the fact that he is rumored to be engaged, Anastasia smiles sheepishly whenever his name is mentioned. Even if he isn't enganged, a maid and a

Mom staggered back, then lunged at me with her fingers clamping down on my neck. "How dare you curse your own brother. You're just a wild wolf, never truly one of the pack. Don't worry, when my time comes, I'll make sure to drag you down with me, so you can never harm a hair on my son's head." Her grip was unyielding, and as I gasped for air, a vision flashed before me. An orange sports car speeding down a winding mountain road. It was the flashy convertible my trust fund brother had just bought.