Casting Crowns Courageous Novels & Stories

she countered. “If you want to win the crown, you have to work hard like the other girls. There's no shortcut in becoming the Luna Queen,” Came his passive reply. “Is that why you have scars all over your body, your pack wants you to win badly that they don't care about hurting their own,”

“Tonight, we gather to witness the crowning of a new king, one who has shown great courage, wisdom, and strength. Marcus, step forward.” Marcus walked forward, his expression calm and composed. The elder held up the crown, a symbol of leadership and responsibility. “With this crown, you are entrusted with the protection and guidance of our people. Do you accept this responsibility, Marcus?” “I do,” Marcus replied, his voice steady. The elder placed the crown on Marcus’s head. “Rise, King Marcus, ruler of the wolves.” A cheer erupted from the crowd, the sound echoing through the hall. Marcus stood, his eyes meeting mine across the room.

The city lay cradled between stone cliffs and frozen pines, cloaked in mist and moonlight a neutral ground carved from old treaties and older blood. Even here, I could feel the tension in the air. Wolf-shifters moved through the streets in wary silence. Some bore the white tattoos of the Highland Clans, others the storm-gray brands of the South. They nodded as I passed, respectful, but wary. I was Frostfang, northern royalty and a healer in a world that only valued warriors. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Something is wrong, Nemphis whispered. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t afford to listen to instincts, not here, not now. I looked up and admired the Hall.

A crow made of shimmering light burst forth, its wings flaring wide as it took to the sky. “Find Harold,” Dale commanded. “Tell him everything!” The crow let out a piercing cry and disappeared into the canopy. We ran until our legs could carry us no further, finally coming to a rocky outcrop that loomed before us like a dead end. Dale cursed under his breath, pulling out yet another card. “These aren’t ordinary foxes,” he said hurriedly, his eyes scanning the area for an escape. “They’re part of a clan that’s been at war with the wolves for centuries.”

“Princess Deloris, will you uphold the customs and duties of the crown?” I nod my head. “I will.” The same voice booms again and snaps me yet again to attention. “Princess Deloris, do you accept the crown?” Again, I nod. “I do.” A couple of clergy step forward. One puts the crown on my head, while the other places the royal golden egg with my family’s crest in my hand. My eyelids again dip, but a slight pain in my shoulder has me whipping my eyelids wide open again.

she saved the coven again by killing the wolves who tried to eat their flesh. A crown with pure jewels was made for Athena...by her husband as a gift for her bravery. The Dasher women are said to be the bravest one when it comes to fighting for their family. Now it was Vlora who was taking the legacy further. She hoped that the Swamp Goddess would come in her dream to reveal her arrival but instead she appeared in her daughter's dream. That was the moment Maddox and Vlora decided to have the ceremony of the little wolf, Crystal.

Albert sneakered, “Now, now. That's an unrefined attack. It was so slow. Did my Crimson Blade become rusty under that Benedict and Dark King's roof? White Crow was even overprotective of you.” “I'll Kill You! ” Zitrey only mumbled. With a vein suddenly burgeon her hand and in the forehead, White Crow suddenly flew sidewards and bumped strongly in the wall, when Zitrey aimed at her waist which she failed to block it. The Raven flew upwards away from them, yet rest on the roof watching.

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

He ate. Luna chattered through the entire meal. She told him about Margaret the cow. About the tractor wedding. About the pigeon that sat on the garden wall every morning, whom she had named Geoffrey. About her best friend at the playground, whose name was Posy and whose favourite colour was yellow, which was, in Luna's opinion, a bad choice. Damien responded to every single thing she said as if it were important. Seraphina stood at the counter and watched them, drank her coffee, and tried very hard not to do anything with the feeling that was happening in her chest.

Josh Moore hurried up to the stage with a flash drive in hand and plugged it into the computer. The massive screen in the ballroom flickered to life. The first image was a close-up of an old, faded photograph. Five-year-old Louise had a distinct pink birthmark on the inside of her arm. I walked up to the woman on stage, grabbed her wrist, and turned her arm over, exposing smooth, unmarked skin. "Where's your birthmark, Louise?" Her expression darkened, but she didn't panic. She shook me off with clear irritation, then gave a subtle signal to a nearby server, who quickly brought her handbag over.