Your Throne Novels & Stories

"Azriel, please...I did it for you...This throne belongs to you and I.." "You think it's a game? The throne is not some toy, Sienna, that you give to someone out of pity, " he bit out. Disappointment flashing in his eyes. Sienna furrowed her brows before shaking her head. She didn't do it out of pity. He was misunderstanding everything.

The twisted branches intertwine, forming an intricate lattice that symbolized the king's dominion over the natural world. “My father sat on it, and now, I will sit on it tomorrow,” Dominic said and Erica felt a hint of defeat in his tone. “why do you hate the throne? It is beautiful, and it looks like it was made just for you,” Glistening with ethereal enchantments, the throne was adorned with shimmering gemstones that seemed to hold captured fragments of starlight. Each gem pulsed with a vibrant, ever-changing hue, reflecting the myriad facets of the king's untamed nature. The armrests were fashioned in the likeness of fearsome beasts, their fierce eyes seemingly alive, and their intricate

The throne was built on the ashes of the seven humans who initiated the war and the skull of their leader mounted on top, a reminder of what's to come if the humans try to go to war with them again. Walking up to the throne, I pause and look at it, a remainder of all the responsibilities I had on my shoulders, the weight of the world. My crown rested on the armrest, gleaming under the sunlight filtering in from the windows, the crown has 10 gems, each representing a pack. With a sigh I sat on the throne and waited for the arrival of the humans as they were led in. Lyra walks in not long after offering me a curt nod then taking her sit in one of the four chairs in front of me.

The staircase climbed impossibly high into the darkness. Leading nowhere. Or perhaps somewhere far beyond the world. At the very top stood a throne. The throne from my vision. The Throne of Stars. The throne hidden beneath the kingdom. The throne every ancient power was searching for. And seated upon it was a figure. Motionless. Silent. Wrapped in chains made of silver fire. A prisoner. Still asleep. Still bound. Yet somehow more terrifying than anything we had seen so far. The golden eyes immediately focused on it. The thirteen fortresses turned toward it.

Chapter 165 The Empty Throne Kael stared at the throne. It stood alone in a vast chamber of darkness. No walls. No ceiling. No floor. Only the throne. Auren held Kael's hand. “Daddy…” Kael looked at him. “Yeah?” “Why is there a throne here?” Kael slowly stepped forward. “I don't know.” The words above it continued glowing. CHOOSE YOUR KING. Selene appeared behind them. Her expression immediately changed. “Don't.”

It wasn't just our war; it was meant to be. I looked at Lucian, who was asleep but still living. And at Micah. I stood up straight. I said in a soft voice that echoed off the walls, "I don't care about any throne." "I'll set it on fire before it costs me my son or you." My mom's face changed from serious to amused. She sighed and asked, "You really can't see it, can you?" "The throne isn't blood; it's power that has been built up." You are its owner.

I'm standing before the throne again. This time, the room is brighter. The throne is empty. I walk toward it. A child stands beside me. I can't see their face. A voice echoes through the chamber. Choose. I look around. "Choose what?" Power or love. My heart pounds. "I choose love." The room shakes. The throne cracks. The child reaches for my hand. Then another voice speaks. Kael. Aria. I turn. He's standing behind me. But blood covers his chest.

Elara turned to the throne. The Throne of Eldoria. A jagged thing of black stone and silver veins. A seat not of comfort, but of burden. A place for a ruler who understood that power was not a gift. It was a wound. And she would bear it. She climbed the steps. One. Two. Three. And sat. The hall roared. Thousands of voices crying out as one: "Long live the Queen!" "Long live Elara of Flame and Blood!" "Long live Eldoria!"

The throne creaked with the force of it. "Say my title," I moaned, pushing back against him. "Supreme Luna," he grunted, the words punching out of him with each thrust.

My own reflection looked back up at me from below — small and pale and very alone in the middle of all that darkness. And at the far end of the room, raised on a dais of black stone steps, was the throne. It was not ornate the way thrones in stories usually were. There was no gold, no jewels, no canopy of rich fabric. It was simply a massive chair carved from a single piece of black rock, its back rising to a sharp point, its arms wide and carved into the shapes of dragon heads. Functional. Dominant. Built for someone who did not need decoration to communicate power.