Story of Kings

Jeremiah Cox

Description

Pristine architecture and flawlessly clean streets are the only things ‘perfect’ in the holy city of Volissa, frozen beauty of the north, but hidden behind white tile and the lofty wings of the angels hides a dark truth; when divinity is passed down through blood, one does not need to be righteous to command power. Kane understands this all too well as he seeks a way to unseat the angels and their god-kings from their position of power, but can he manage it when everything he has built for himself is threatened to become undone? In a sudden race against time, Kane has to earn the trust of cautious strangers lest he has to sacrifice love for the sake of the cause. Can Kane save his soul and the spirit of freedom, or will he have to let one die?

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Adventure
• Fiction
• Action
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 12 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823003032
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

STORY of KINGS
BOOK 1
JEREMIAH COX


AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Jeremiah Cox. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 05/03/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0304-9 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0302-5 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0303-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023904321
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Prologue
 
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
 
About The Author


SPECIAL THANKS
To my long time, biggest supporter, Nick. I don’t think I would have continued my journey as a writer if it wasn’t for you. Not only have you hyped me up but have also given me valuable and honest critique, and always believed in me. Thank you so much!
As this is the start of my journey as a writer, this one’s for you.
PROLOGUE
“T hese demigods cannot be left to do as they please!” King Dravonious roared, spittle spraying from his mouth, an accumulation forming on his beard. “Hiding in a hole like weak cowards will see us doomed! Rho has entrusted his gift to me, I shall not waste it!”
King Dravonious stabbed his sword, Divine Intervention into his fallen foe only to pull it out with a sickening shlick and stab again and again, a twisted laughter escaping the human lord while his stilled throne room looked on in silence. The increasingly mutilated corpse on the ground belonged to one of his now former barons, his crime, publicly disagreeing with his king.
“I am one of the chosen of the gods!” King Dravonious cried as he continued to stab the corpse, the wrathful fire of the divine blade filling the room with the smell of burning human flesh. “I was given this holy blade by Rho himself to carry on his war and I will not stop now because you are weak!”
Over and over again the King stabbed the corpse, the onlookers of his court wisely staying silent. No normal man could match one who wielded a divine artifact and Dravonious was unhinged. The eyes of his courtroom glancing between themselves, all asking the same silent question. No one moved, though. No one did anything. No one had an answer to that unasked question.
The throne room endured minutes of the insane king stabbing the corpse, the smell of burning flesh until a choked sob rang out over the sound of metal cleaving through bone.
The mad king whipped his attention up. “Who was that?” He barked to his assembled court, drawing the blade out of the burnt corpse and swinging it wildly around. “Who dares to cry at justice carried out?!? Was it you?!” He yelled, pointing Divine Intervention at a nearby member of his court.
Eyes cast down, the man shook his head and took a small step back. “No, my liege,” he said in a calm voice.
“You?!” He barked at the woman next to the man.
In similar fashion, she took a step back with a shake of her head. “Not I, my lord,” she said, devoid of emotion.
The king then stood to his full height, towering over all others in the room. He carefully scanned the face of each member in his court, taking his time as he slowly walked a tight circle around the body. “You,” he said, pointing his searing blade at a small girl, tears still fresh on her face.
“N-no, my lord,” the child stammered out through strangled fear, gripping tight the dress of her mother beside her.
“You dare lie to your king?” Dravonious hissed. “You break at the sight of justice and now you attempt to deceive your king? Can you even conceive your sins?”
“No, my lord, she cannot,” the girl’s mother said. “Plea-” The woman was suddenly cut short when Divine Intervention cleaved her in two, from shoulder to hip.
“Your king did not address you!” Dravonious shouted over the now screaming child before raising his burning blade into the air. “Now be cleansed of your sins by the wrath of Rho!”
The fiery blade swung down in a murderous arc but was suddenly halted inches from the small girl’s head, a blackened hand fading to chalky pale skin sparing her from the inferno. The king gaped at the boy behind the girl, not much taller with sopping wet hair that was plastered down his forehead, water dripping off the sleeves of his front lace, white linen shirt. His lips and ears were blue, and his sunken, brown eyes were locked onto the king.
“You- you’re dead,” King Dravonious said, his voice in a hoarse whisper.
“You have something to learn about murdering a child in a freshwater spring, brother,” the child said with a tone just as cold as his appearance. The child then swapped his attention to the blade and immediately the fires raging down the weapon began to quell.
“No!” The king shouted, uselessly trying to yank the blade free from his deceased brother’s grip but to no avail. “You’re dead! You cannot do this!”
“No,” the king’s brother said in return, his tone dropping considerably as his attention shifted back to Dravonious, his small, frail frame beginning to expand and grow as the sword in his hand was raised higher and higher. In just a moment, the dead child grew to tower over both the girl and the king with teeth bared and a shadow clouding his face as an elk’s skull pushed through his wet hair to cover his features, long antlers spiking into the air. “I am Kholdheart.”
Without another word, the monster Kholdheart let loose a ground-shattering roar, the small girl dropping to her knees and covering her ears as the king was pushed back with a concussive force, Divine Intervention slipping free from his grasp as he fell over. Everyone else in the room was similarly knocked over with several passing out from sheer terror, weapons and armored guards clattering to the ground.
Kholdheart then grabbed Divine Intervention from either end and depressed the holy sword down into his palms, curling it up into his hands. When he was done, the once-sword was reduced to a dense ball of divine aether, brilliant and shining like the sun. Kholdheart lifted it to his maw and opened his jaw wide, then ate it in a single bite, steam rolling off him as the water once soaking him evaporated, a fur pelt rising with the steam as a mantle on the beast’s shoulders.
“Impossible,” King Dravonious whispered, his skewed crown sagging and falling off his head with a deafened clang. “What are you?”
Kholdheart stepped over the small girl and picked Dravonious up by the lapel of his royal robe. “I am the god-eater,” its gravelly voice said before bringing him forward and biting off his head, the crunch of bone and splatter of blood earning screams with the sound of more fainting bodies crashing against the floor.
With the monster looming over all of them, the remaining conscious member’s of Dravonious’ court were brought back to reality and snapped into action, all scattering in different directions with more panicked screams. Before any one of them could make it to an exit though, Kholdheart’s chest began to glow with heat, a faded orange then red burning through his skin as though it was charcoal. Flame shot forth from his clawed hands and enveloped the walls of the throne room in fire, creating an impassable barrier that prevented escape and burned the very stone the castle was built with.
“You share in Dravonious’ guilt,” Kholdheart rumbled. “You will share in his punishment as well.”
Without another word, Kholdheart let out another ground-shattering roar and began his hunt. Even contained within a pen of fire, the monster of shadow and fur stalked each noble in Dravonious’ court like a predator in a forest hunting its prey. With mighty claws he tore them in half, his jaws snapping off and swallowing entire limbs whole. A few of the armed men tried to mount a defense, drawing their blades and slashing at the mighty beast but with fur like iron, the swords deflected harmlessly off his hide.
After Kholdheart had slaughtered the occupants of the throne room, he moved on to the rest of the castle. As the fire spread, so too did Kholdheart’s wake of death. None were spared, from the soldiers who had defended the mad king down to the peasants who had cleaned up after him and as every body hit the floor, Kholdheart’s ferocity intensified.
Leaving a trail of blood flowing from him in his wake, Kholdheart came to the entrance of the castle and looked down on the city below. A wretched city filled with wretched souls, all content with a mad king tearing apart the world. How could they not revolt? Did they not realize their complicity in all of i