Viridescent Crown Novels & Stories

Once I was close enough, the three jewels emerged from their containers on their own, attaching to the crown with some kind of magic, or perhaps with ghostly hands; it was hard to tell. As the jewels settled into their ancient settings on the crown, a shock wave of pure energy burst outward, knocking several people off their feet. The crown rose into the air, hovering at eye level as it pulsed with power, its colours blending in perfect harmony: moonsilver, sunlight gold, forest green, and celestial blue. "The Harmony Crown," Sebastian breathed, his normally composed features slack with awe. "Fully awakened for the first time in centuries."

At the center, resting atop a stone pedestal, is a jagged crown—half bone, half scorched gold, smoldering with silent flame. Ceres (awestruck): "That's it…" Lady Ilven (reverently): "The Crown of Flame and Bone. Forged in dragonfire. Tempered with the blood of the first Umbra king. It can only be worn by a rightful heir." Guard (low voice): "It looks like it's… alive." Indeed, the crown pulses faintly as if breathing. Ceres: "Why bring me here?" I'm not here to rule. I want answers." Lady Ilven (approaching the pedestal):

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.

I exclaimed happily, twirling around for emphasis. Saturday came and all the preparations had been put into place. Grandma Rose and Pernwél had come to the Beta quarters to help me get ready. Pernwél had made me a crown with dried herbs from Grandma Rose’s pantry. She had woven together Lavender and twigs of Rosemary, tying them together with a cream colored ribbon. With a fine metal wire she had wrapped mountain crystals between the purple flowers. She tied the fragile crown around my loose hair with the ribbon, making my whole outfit come together.

It pressed and knot itself, forming and deforming at each second that passed, until with a pop, the blood transformed into a tangible object, which could be worn only by the king: a crown. It was hailed with black linings that were dancing in its curves and edges; there was also a red, minuscule ruby glinting at each black lining. With a last whisper, the priest grabbed the crown. He hurriedly put it over Vladimir’s head who crouched a little with its weight. He’s in awe as he felt the heaviness of such a small thing. “All hail to King Vladimir,” the priest shouted. The common vampires and the witnesses echoed his words.

In the blue band, there are white roses embroidered throughout, and across the ribs portion of the dress there is light silver filigree that follows her feminine shape, and the pattern is repeated at the bottom of her dress. I gasp when I realise it is a replica of a section of my family crest and my eyes moisten from the sentiment shown by that symbolism. Drawing my gaze back to her face I take notice of her veil not being drawn down. Instead, it appears to have been integrated into the elaborate hairstyle she has which is keeping her wayward hair under control. Her image is completed by the princess crown atop her head to symbolise her status as the soon-to-be queen. In her hands, she carr

“This is not a circlet kissed by moons or forged by gods.” She turned in a slow circle. “This is pain made visible. This is grief made iron. This is every name they buried to build their empires.” She paused. Let her voice drop. “This is mine.” Venn spoke. “Will you place it on your head?” Sirelia looked at him. “No.” She set the crown on the altar. “Let it crown itself.” The flames beneath the altar flared. And the crown rose. It hovered. Spinning slowly. Blood wept from its edges.

"I'll go ahead and—" "Actually, let me go first." Vanessa was already on her feet, moving past me to the screen. "You don't mind, Mr. Brown?" "Fine by me." She plugged in before I could say anything. I sat back down and waited. The screen lit up, and my stomach dropped. Vanessa stood in front of it with a confident smile. "Arctic Crown. That's today's theme. Inspired by the northern lights — a gradient of opals in green, blue, and purple, arranged to mirror the way aurora moves across the night sky."

If anything, what I had seen on the TV seemed dull in comparison to what went on in the Iridescence Pack. My eyes widened and my jaw became slack as I realized why this was called the Carnival Cerulean. Bundles of living flame were suspended in the air, casting their beautiful light on the Carnival below. The flames weren’t normal, flickering with orange and red light. They were a rich shade of blue, cerulean to be exact. Within those flames were different shades and colors, all stemming from the color blue. They crackled and snapped, sending cobalt embers into the air whenever something managed to catch itself in the flames.

The crowns were beautiful; they were the same; there was no difference between the crowns. The crowns were also unique; everyone’s crown was either gold or silver, but this one was gold with rubies, emeralds, and lovely-looking gemstones on it. The crown was elegant and powerful. Jane has never done this for anyone; does she have a personal connection with any of them? Nobody knows her family or background; they just all know she is a witch and the leader of the pillars.