Chapter 3: The Blood Crown Rises
1484 Words
The explosion didn’t just shake the walls—
It shattered them.
Stone cracked. Dust rained from the ceiling. The ground trembled violently beneath their feet as a deafening roar echoed through the castle.
Screams erupted across the hall.
“Protect the Queen!”
“Form ranks!”
Guards rushed forward, weapons drawn, instincts kicking in—but beneath the chaos, something else spread.
Fear.
Not ordinary fear.
Something older.
Something primal.
Killian felt it claw up his spine, his wolf pacing violently beneath his skin.
This wasn’t a normal attack.
This wasn’t even a war.
This was a hunt.
And they weren’t the hunters.
Elara didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
But her grip on her son tightened.
“Stay behind me,” she said quietly.
The boy didn’t obey.
Instead, he stepped forward again, his small figure walking straight toward the broken doors, toward the destruction waiting outside.
“Elion.” Her voice sharpened.
He stopped.
But he didn’t turn back.
“They’re close,” he said softly.
Killian’s gaze snapped to him. “Elion?”
The name settled heavily in his chest.
His son.
His blood.
“Elion,” he repeated under his breath.
The boy tilted his head slightly, as if hearing something far away.
“They’re inside already.”
The words had barely left his lips when—
A body flew through the shattered doorway.
It slammed into the marble floor with a sickening c***k, sliding to a stop at Killian’s feet.
Dead.
No.
Not just dead.
Drained.
Killian crouched instantly, his senses sharpening. There was no scent of blood.
No wound.
No visible injury.
But the man’s skin was pale. Lifeless. Hollow.
“What the hell…” Killian muttered.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed from beyond the doorway.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Footsteps.
Measured.
Confident.
Unhurried.
Every instinct in Killian screamed danger as a figure stepped through the smoke.
Tall.
Draped in black.
A crown—not of gold, but of jagged, dark metal—rested on his head like something forged in shadows.
His eyes swept across the room.
Then stopped.
On the boy.
A smile spread across his lips.
“There you are.”
The room went cold.
Elara stepped forward, placing herself between the man and her son.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice low, dangerous.
The man chuckled.
“And yet… here I am.”
Killian rose slowly, positioning himself beside Elara without thinking.
“What is this?” he demanded. “Who is he?”
The man’s gaze flicked to Killian briefly—disinterested.
“Ah,” he murmured. “The Alpha who broke the trigger.”
Killian stiffened. “What did you just say?”
Elara’s expression darkened.
“Don’t,” she warned.
But it was too late.
The man’s smile widened.
“You don’t even know, do you?” he said, amused. “You have no idea what you did that night.”
Killian’s jaw tightened. “Start talking.”
The man ignored him.
Instead, he took another step forward.
Toward the boy.
Elion didn’t move.
Didn’t hide.
He simply watched.
“You’ve grown,” the man said softly, almost fondly. “Stronger than expected.”
Elara’s power surged.
The air rippled violently around her as her eyes glowed faintly.
“You will not take him,” she said.
The man stopped.
Then laughed.
“Take him?” he repeated. “Oh, my Queen… you misunderstand.”
His gaze darkened.
“I didn’t come to take him.”
The shadows in the room shifted.
Thickened.
Alive.
“I came to bring him home.”
A wave of power exploded outward.
The guards nearest the door were thrown back instantly, slamming into walls as darkness spilled across the floor like liquid.
Killian stepped forward, his wolf roaring to the surface.
“No one’s taking him anywhere,” he growled.
The man finally looked at him properly.
And for the first time—
There was interest.
“You still think you have a say,” he said softly.
Then, almost lazily, he lifted his hand.
Killian froze.
Not by choice.
His body locked completely, every muscle refusing to obey.
“What—” he tried to move, but couldn’t. “What is this?!”
The man tilted his head.
“Your punishment,” he said.
Elara’s power flared violently.
“Release him!” she snapped.
The man didn’t even look at her.
“Not yet,” he said calmly. “He needs to understand.”
Elion stepped forward again.
“Stop,” he said.
Everything stilled.
The shadows paused.
The pressure in the room shifted.
The man’s smile faded slightly.
“Elion,” he said, almost gently. “You shouldn’t interfere.”
“He’s not yours,” Elion replied.
The man’s expression hardened.
“He is more mine than yours.”
The words hit like a bomb.
Killian’s eyes widened.
“What does that mean?” he demanded, still trapped in place.
Elara’s voice cut through sharply.
“Enough!”
But the man only smiled again.
“You haven’t told him?” he asked, mock surprise lacing his tone. “How cruel of you.”
“Elara,” Killian growled, panic creeping into his voice now. “What is he talking about?”
She didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because if she said it—
Everything would change.
The man stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Killian’s.
“You think that child is just your son?” he said softly.
Killian’s chest tightened.
“He is my son.”
The man chuckled darkly.
“Half right.”
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Deadly.
Then—
“He carries your blood,” the man continued. “Yes.”
His smile sharpened.
“But what runs through his veins…”
The shadows surged violently.
“…is something far older than you.”
Killian’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“No,” he said. “No, that’s not possible.”
“Oh, it is,” the man said. “Because the night you rejected her…”
His gaze flicked to Elara.
“…you didn’t just break a bond.”
The ground trembled again.
This time—
From Elion.
The boy’s eyes glowed faintly.
Warning.
“Stop,” Elion said.
The man ignored him.
“You awakened the Blood Crown.”
The words echoed like a curse.
Killian’s breath stopped.
Elara closed her eyes briefly.
Too late.
The truth was out.
“What is that?” Killian demanded.
The man spread his arms slightly.
“Me,” he said simply.
The room went still.
“I am the Blood Crown,” he continued. “The last king of a forgotten line.”
His gaze dropped to Elion.
“And he…”
For the first time—
There was something like reverence in his voice.
“…is my successor.”
“No!” Elara snapped.
Her power exploded outward, sending a shockwave through the hall.
The man didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
“You can’t change what he is,” he said calmly. “You only delayed it.”
Killian’s mind reeled.
“No,” he said again, shaking his head. “That’s not true. He’s my son. My heir.”
Elion turned slightly.
Looked at him.
And for the first time—
There was something almost… sad in his eyes.
“I’m not just yours,” he said quietly.
The words broke something in Killian’s chest.
The man stepped forward again.
“It’s time,” he said.
The shadows surged violently—
Rushing toward Elion.
Elara moved instantly.
“No!”
But she was too late.
The shadows wrapped around the boy—
And he didn’t fight.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t resist.
He just stood there—
As the darkness rose around him like a crown.
Killian roared.
His wolf tore free, breaking whatever held him in place as he lunged forward—
“Elion!”
But the moment his hand reached the boy—
The shadows exploded.
A blinding wave of power slammed into the entire hall.
Walls cracked.
Windows shattered.
And when the darkness cleared—
Elion was standing in the center.
Unharmed.
Changed.
His eyes—
No longer just blue.
But streaked with black.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
And behind him—
A shadowy crown hovered faintly above his head.
The man smiled slowly.
“It begins.”
Elion looked at his hands.
Then slowly—
At Elara.
“Mother…” he said softly.
Her heart stopped.
Because his voice—
It wasn’t the same.
“Why does it feel like…” he continued, his gaze drifting toward the man—
“…I remember him?”
Silence fell like a death sentence.
Killian’s blood ran cold.
Elara’s worst fear had just come true.
And the man—
The Blood Crown—
Finally laughed.
“Because you do.”
Another surge of darkness filled the hall.
And this time—
it wasn’t coming for him.
It was coming from him.
- Writer
