Crown of Shadows and Moonlight: A Dark Fantasy Romance of Power, Tragedy & Divine Wrath (The Bloodsworn Throne, Book 1) by Isabella Beaumont

Author:Isabella Beaumont [Beaumont, Isabella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-02-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine: A Throne of Ruin

The chamber erupted into chaos.

The air itself cracked as the Weaving Gods descended fully, their shifting forms flickering between light and shadow. The very foundations of the palace trembled, and a golden radiance bled from their veiled figures, swallowing the room in divine fire.

Vhaelor moved first.

He did not charge, did not rage. He simply stepped forward, and the darkness followed, curling around him like living tendrils, devouring the light the gods tried to wield. The torches in the great hall shattered, snuffed out by an unnatural wind, and the walls groaned as if the stone itself feared his presence.

Lysandra stood her ground, her pulse steady, her expression unreadable. She had made her choice long ago. There was no undoing it now.

The tallest of the gods raised a hand, their fingers shimmering like woven stardust. “You do not belong here, Forsaken One.”

Vhaelor smiled. “And yet, here I stand.”

The gods did not hesitate. Light split the air, searing toward him.

Vhaelor raised his own hand, and the shadows broke against it like waves upon the shore. But the force of the blow sent cracks spiralling across the marble floor, and the wind that followed howled through the chamber, rattling chandeliers, tearing banners from the walls.

Rhain shouted an order to the guards, but it was useless. This was not a battle mortals could fight.

Lysandra’s gaze flicked between the two forces—Vhaelor and the gods. The abyss and the heavens. The tension between them coiled, growing tighter, more volatile.

Then the gods spoke again, their many voices layered atop one another. “You were never meant to be queen.”

The words struck her like a blade, but she did not let it show. She lifted her chin, meeting their divine gaze without fear.

“No,” she said, voice like steel. “But I am.”

Another blast of light erupted from the gods, but this time, it was aimed at her.

Lysandra braced herself—and then Vhaelor was there.

He moved faster than she could process, stepping in front of her just as the divine attack struck. It hit him directly, the force of it so powerful that the very air seemed to warp around him. The impact sent him skidding backward, his boots scraping against the cracked floor.

Lysandra exhaled, pulse hammering in her throat. She had seen Vhaelor kill before. Had seen him break men, twist the world with his presence. But she had never seen him take a blow meant for her.

Vhaelor exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as the light flickered and died against his skin. “I see,” he murmured. “You intend to make this interesting.”

The gods did not answer. They attacked again.

This time, Vhaelor did not deflect. He retaliated.

Darkness coiled at his feet and then exploded outward, surging toward the gods like a monstrous tide. The impact shattered what was left of the throne room, sending fragments of stone cascading to the ground. Divine light and abyssal shadow clashed, warring for dominance, shaking the very foundation of the palace.

Lysandra stumbled as the force of the battle ripped through the chamber.

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