Verse Of The Throne Novels & Stories

“It won’t be a vision this time.” We both knew. Chaos had once shown us a child woven from light and fire a future, a warning. We’d left it sealed in prophecy. Now prophecy had found its way back. “Stay close,” he said. I almost laughed. “That’s the problem.” We moved together toward the Throne. The air thickened. Shadows reversed direction, drawn toward the flame instead of fleeing it. A ring of light rose beneath our feet familiar, terrifying. The Throne hummed. Its cracks glowed molten, runes surfacing like breath beneath glass.

Hed spent so many happy epochs here. No. All that must remain in the recesses of his soul. This was no time for nostalgia. He slowed and approached the Meadow of the Throne. It was just as he remembered it: the flat plain of brilliant white cloudsoil leading up toward the center of everything. The Throne itself, dazzlingly bright, radiating the warmth of pure goodness, so luminous that, even for an angel, it was impossible to look directly at it. One could not even get close to seeing the Creator, who sat upon the Throne clothed in brightness, so the customary synecdoche--calling the whole entity the Throne--was apt.

The glyph projected a shape, not a man, not a creature, but a throne. A throne made of shadows, moonlight, and starlight woven together—three parts. Triad and Convergent. The original throne. The First Throne. Alessia’s heart pounded. She whispered, “The Architect wasn’t trying to create power.” “He was trying to reclaim it,” Selene finished. The throne pulsed again. —Descendant. —Bearer. —Claim what was denied. Kael stepped in front of her. “No,” he said firmly. “She’s not touching that.”

A tragedy among souls Formed from a web of lies and deceit Unable to be unspun until the final curtain is drawn Blood fills the hands of the usurpers Despite one's desire to rectify a mistake It will all be in vain For the throne of thorns shall consume what was once a protective throne. Darkness will cover the country like a shroud Until the light of those forsaken are finally revealed A final fight shall be formed Made from truth and lies Who will win? Sadly, some things are just meant to fall

Allow yourselves to transition with trust and no fear because you are like the seasons: they are a necessary part of life. Gather in packs. The strongest amongst you will be your Alpha. His mate, your Luna. Next strongest male or female is the Beta, followed by the Gamma. Trust in me, the Moon, your mother. Call upon me when in need. I'm always watching over you. And the additional lines... The Alpha born from one bloodline alone will be blessed with a truly unique Luna. If he does not secure his mate, He seals all my children's fate.

Daddy, I went to meet archangel Gabriel one-on-one, and he told me that our throne had been soiled, and he asked what I was going to do about it, and I promised him I would restore the throne to its former glory. I accepted his gift and traveled to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I realized that with the help of the almighty, fifty-five people had been sacrificed on the throne. So, before we can do anything, those people's lives must be returned, and I've been able to bring the fifty-five souls back. Now we must go to the throne room and make some sacrifices. When may we walk to the throne room, His Majesty sighs and says, "Thank you, my son, elder sister."

The First King’s sigil. She set it on the nearest table, flipping through pages until she found what she was looking for. “Here.” Elior stepped closer, the others gathering around as Myrra read aloud. “To break the Throne is to break the Balance. The Chains of the Veil will shatter, and the Dark One shall rise again.” Silence. Elior’s pulse quickened. The Dark One. He didn’t need to say it. They all knew the name Erythos.

A name that had never been spoken aloud since. She reached for him. He didn’t flinch. But the air around them did. They could almost see the air shift. A wind surged through the chamber, lifting dust and breaking light into swirling patterns. Glyphs along the walls lit up, pulsing with golden flame. And then they heard it. A deep, layered voice—not male or female. Something older. “He is the seed and the scythe. The beginning and the undoing. The blood of two fallen thrones, awakened too soon.”

Dancing and swirling in the most enchanting patterns, carving themselves in the wood. The doors fly open and the vines and flowers continue to flow and carve the stone walls. The display of vines end on the black throne on the far side of the massive hall. People within gasp and cheer. Clapping and bowing as I walk with the master and take my seat upon the throne. The robed man stands and addresses the crowd. "YOUR QUEEN" he bellows and the crowd erupt "Long may she reign"

Katherine was a bit taken aback at Lucian's words. Was he saying she wasn't worthy? Or that she was below standards? As Katherine was about to respond he cut her off. "Miss Lily and Lord Killian filled me in on your attitude towards the throne, 'unwilling' I believe was the term used to describe your response. As queen, your duty is to defend and uphold the kingdom, a kingdom that you are yet to love and you cannot rule without your heart." Katherine looked away from him when he mentioned her attitude since she arrived.