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- Herausgeber: epubli
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
A thousand years ago, the Vampire Empire rose from the shadows to rule the night. Born of a pact of blood, darkness, and absolute power, Velenthia became the heart of a world shaped by fear and eternity. Ruled by immortal emperors, sustained by bloodthirsty clans and a twisted faith in an ancient order, the empire thrived—at the cost of its humanity. But now, the Empire bleeds. With the death of the last emperor, the throne lies empty for the first time in centuries. Three forces emerge from the chaos: the ancient nobles who swear fealty to the old order, the revolutionaries who wish to destroy everything and start anew, and the independent clans hungry for autonomy and new blood. At the center of it all is Princess Elara—the rightful heir, raised on privilege and promise, trained to rule but not to love. When her heart turns to Darius, a rebel general with ghosts of his own, Elara finds herself torn between duty and desire, between the throne and betrayal. In an empire where memories are weapons and pacts can shape realities, she will discover that the truth is more dangerous than any enemy. And that sometimes… to save a kingdom, you must first destroy it. This is the beginning of a saga where blood is not just life—it is destiny.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Copyright
(c) 2025 by Danniel Paraiso
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical reviews or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is entirely coincidental.
INTRODUCTION
A thousand years ago, the Vampire Empire rose from the shadows to rule the night.
Born of a pact of blood, darkness, and absolute power, Velenthia became the heart of a world shaped by fear and eternity. Ruled by immortal emperors, sustained by bloodthirsty clans, and a twisted faith in an ancient order, the empire thrived-at the cost of its humanity.
But now, the Empire bleeds.
With the death of the last emperor, the throne is empty for the first time in centuries.
Three forces emerge from the chaos: the ancient nobles who swear loyalty to the old order, the revolutionaries who wish to destroy everything and start from scratch, and the independent clans, hungry for autonomy and new blood.
At the center of it all is Princess Elara-the rightful heir, raised among privilege and promise, trained to rule but not to love.
When her heart turns to Darius, a rebel general with ghosts of his own, Elara finds herself torn between duty and desire, between the throne and betrayal.
In an empire where memories are weapons and pacts can shape realities, she will discover that the truth is more dangerous than any enemy.
And that sometimes… to save a kingdom, you have to destroy it first.
This is the beginning of a saga where blood is not just life - it is destiny.
Throne of Blood - In the Ashes of the Empire
Daniel Paradise
Dedication
I write these words with fingers that once held swords,
and a heart that learned to lie to survive.
I dedicate this story…
To those who died for me, without knowing if I was worth the sacrifice.
To those who loved me, even when my soul was already ashes.
And, most importantly,
to the one who taught me that betrayal, sometimes,
It’s just the cruelest form of love.
Let this throne serve as a warning:
power demands more than blood.
Charge your own soul.
- Elara,
The daughter of the empire.
The heir of silence.
The traitor of eternity.
SUMMARY - Book 1: The Throne of Blood
Prologue - Echoes in the Stone
Chapter 1 - The Emperor’s Last Night
Chapter 2 - The Shadow Heir
Chapter 3 - Three Factions, One Throne
Chapter 4 - The General and the Rose
Chapter 5 - The Meeting in the Empty Hall
Chapter 6 - The Banquet of Betrayals
Chapter 7 - The Blood of the Ancients
Chapter 8 - Mirrors and Blades
Chapter 9 - Voices from Underground
Chapter 10 - Darius’ Promise
Chapter 11 - The Moon’s Judgment
Chapter 12 - Warring Clans
Chapter 13 - The Storm’s Kiss
Chapter 14 - Ombryl’s Message
Chapter 15 - The Silver Codex
Chapter 16 - The Night of Burning Souls
Chapter 17 - The Cathedral Pact
Chapter 18 - Blood on Royal Shoulders
Chapter 19 - The Broken Tower
Chapter 20 - Stitched Memories
Chapter 21 - The Ash March
Chapter 22 - Varan’s Venom
Chapter 23 - The Sisters of Silence
Chapter 24 - Teeth in the Dark
Chapter 25 - The Crown of Thorns
Chapter 26 - Dorian’s Secret
Chapter 27 - The Fall of House Leth
Chapter 28 - The Substitute Heiress
Chapter 29 - Whispers in Velenthia
Chapter 30 - The Shadow of the First
Chapter 31 - Claws of Faith
Chapter 32 - The Mask of Truth
Chapter 33 - Black Birds, Red Sky
Chapter 34 - The Last Dance in the Mirror
Chapter 35 - The House That Eats Memories
Chapter 36 - Blood Does Not Lie
Chapter 37 - The Rise of Elion
Chapter 38 - The Broken Oath
Chapter 39 - A God in the Abyss
Chapter 40 - The Voices That Don’t Die
Chapter 41 - Ruin in Flames
Chapter 42 - The Throne Rewritten
Chapter 43 - The Book of Forbidden Names
Chapter 44 - Traitors and Martyrs
Chapter 45 - Darius Between Shadows
Chapter 46 - The Court of Tears
Chapter 47 - The Bride of the Abyss
Chapter 48 - Selyra’s Last Rose
Chapter 49 - The Mother of the Forgotten
Chapter 50 - The March of the Devout
Chapter 51 - Light in Raw Meat
Chapter 52 - Velenthia’s Hunger
Chapter 53 - The Breath of a New Century
Chapter 54 - The Whispering Walls
Chapter 55 - The Heiress’s Heart
Chapter 56 - The Last Confession
Chapter 57 - The Cold Beneath the Ruins
Chapter 58 - The Truth That Kills
Chapter 59 - The Shadow Lions
Chapter 60 - The Children of the Forgotten Blood
Chapter 61 - The Kiss of Defeat
Chapter 62 - The Voice in the Bone
Chapter 63 - The Beginning of the End
Chapter 64 - The City’s Wrath
Chapter 65 - The Trapped Souls
Chapter 66 - Elara’s Choice
Chapter 67 - The Red Rising
Chapter 68 - The Cry of the Empire
Chapter 69 - The Secret of the Throne
Chapter 70 - Darius in Flames
Chapter 71 - The Gods Do Not Return
Chapter 72 - Elion
Chapter 73 - The Weight of Eternity
Chapter 74 - The Last Light
Chapter 75 - The Death of a Lover
Chapter 76 - The City That Forgot
Chapter 77 - The Wall Between Worlds
Chapter 78 - The Broken Crown
Chapter 79 - The City That Reminds Us Too Much
Chapter 80 - The Blood of the Immortals
Epilogue - The Ashes of Promise
Character arc
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue - Echoes in the Stone
Velenthia slept under a night thick as blood-soaked velvet.
The rain did not fall-it ran silently down the gargoyles of the cathedrals, carrying the whispers of the ancient walls, as if the Empire itself were weeping an omen.
Deep within the Black Marble Palace, beyond the halls adorned with bones and tapestries from forgotten ages, the old emperor lay in his final chamber.
His eyes were closed, but his mouth… was still whispering.
Not for the living -
but for the stones.
-The throne never belonged to the righteous… only to those who bear the weight of eternity, he murmured, his voice as weak as wind among tombs.
The echo of his words ran through the columns of the chamber, awakening something that had been sealed away.
There, where time did not dare to enter, the echoes had memory.
And that memory, made of pacts, betrayals and broken promises, began to take shape again.
Beside the imperial bed, Princess Elara remained motionless.
Dark hair fell like a shadow over his shoulders, and his eyes-eyes inherited from the first bloodline-were fixed on the body that had once housed the most feared vampire in the world.
There were no tears.
No love.
Just the oppressive emptiness of someone who was created not to feel, but to succeed.
- Father… - she whispered, without waiting for an answer.
Behind her, doors creaked like ancient bones.
Three figures approached.
A nobleman with golden eyes and a scarlet cloak.
A warrior with rough armor and eyes that hated everything.
A woman wrapped in veils, carrying secrets on her skin.
- “The throne is empty,” said the nobleman.
- “And the blood is impatient,” replied the warrior.
- “But the stones still remember,” the woman added. “And they never forget to whom the oath was made.”
Elara turned around slowly.
She felt it.
He felt the weight of fate pulsing beneath his feet.
The empire he loved was on the brink of the abyss.
And there, before the bones of an ancient world, a choice was already beginning to emerge.
There was no more time for mourning.
War was written on the walls.
And the throne of blood… would demand sacrifices.
Chapter 1 - The Crown Burned
The storm fell upon Valarenth like an omen.
Lightning streaked across the sky above the black spires of the Crimson Palace, briefly illuminating the gargoyle-covered battlements and red-washed stained glass windows. The walls, carved from basalt and adorned with centuries of weathered shields, seemed to vibrate with the roar of thunder. It was as if the Empire itself mourned the death of its sovereign.
Inside the throne chamber, the atmosphere was thick. Not just the smoke from the candles or the smell of spilled blood - but the absolute lack of order. By the invisible threat that, with the death of Emperor Kael Drakov, the mask of the empire would fall once and for all.
The crown still rested on the empty throne, stained with ash. Its darkened rubies looked like blind eyes.
And before her, kneeling, was Princess Elara Drakov, the late emperor’s only daughter, her eyes closed. Her hair was wet from the rain that had caught her on the way back from the sanctuary, and her cloak trailed ash and dust across the marble. Around her, the councilors and nobles watched with hungry eyes-like wolves waiting for their prey to raise its head.
“Let her rise,” demanded Dom Gaius Valen, the Iron Duke, whose armor still dripped with blood from a recent political hunt. “The throne cannot wait for a daughter’s grief. Nor for a girl’s hesitation.”
But Elara was not a girl.
When he opened his eyes, there was fire in them. Contained fire, yes-but still fire.
“The throne burned my father,” she replied. “Perhaps he is tired of burning those who wear it without merit.”
Gaius clenched his fist. Others smiled. Some out of loyalty. Others out of self-interest. There were three main factions in the hall-and Elara knew that better than anyone.
The Noble-Blood Aristocrats, who saw the throne as a hereditary divine right.
The Silent Revolutionaries, led by generals and thinkers who preached a new empire based on votes, merit and strength.
And the Wandering Clans, powerful, volatile, and independent, who for centuries had not paid full vassalage but benefited from imperial stability.
Elara, despite the blood, belonged to none of them.
And so, perhaps… she was the only one with something real to lose.
She stood up, with the controlled steps of someone who had been trained to keep her face still even under torture. She looked at the throne.
- My father ruled with an iron fist and sealed lips. He made enemies. He made pacts with shadows. And he paid the price. I will not make the same mistakes.
-And what mistakes will he make, then? - Gaius hissed. - The one of weakness?
She turned. Not as a princess. But as a woman who had learned that fear was a disguise for power.
-The mistake of trusting men like you, Dom Gaius, has been made too many times in this court.
A murmur went through the room.
Before he could respond, the doors to the hall opened with a bang.
And there he was.
Darius Varn, the exiled general. The traitor. The revolutionary.
Their boots trod the marble as if they were unafraid of death. The simple armor contrasted with the pomp of the nobles, but their eyes-pure onyx-carried more authority than any jewel.
And what he had in his hands froze the entire room:
The head of a senator, hanging by silver threads.
- This man was plotting a coup in the name of “order.” He is dead. And all who follow him will meet the same end.
The hall erupted in shouts, weapons drawn, accusations crossed.
But Elara didn’t move.
She looked at Darius, and for a moment, she didn’t just see the general.
Saw the man. The past. And the danger.
Because she already knew him.
And he had loved that look before the empire decided he must die.
“You have chosen a dangerous time to return, Darius,” she said, her voice firm.
- I didn’t come back for myself. I came back for you. And for the empire that can still be saved.
She took a step forward.
- Or destroyed.
They stared at each other for seconds that seemed like centuries.
And then Darius smiled-not with scorn, but with something darker. Something like… hope.
- Sometimes, Elara, you have to destroy what is rotten… before something new can grow.
And with that, the empire entered the first night of the new era.
No emperor.
No rules.
And with blood already spilled.
Chapter 2 - The Weight of Legacy
The halls of the Crimson Palace whispered with tales of blood. Not in the words whispered on the tapestries, but in the echoing footsteps of those who had died there-princes, traitors, advisors, even forgotten gods. Elara knew them all. Or thought she did. Now every shadow seemed to have a new face, and every room a secret that refused to die.
She walked alone to the Drakov’s ancestral crypt, where the ancient vampire kings lay, even after centuries of tyranny. Behind her, the palace was abuzz with arguments, factions forming, alliances being forged with rotten threads of promises and veiled threats. But here, in the silence between the tombs, Elara sought more than answers.
I was looking for courage.
Kael Drakov’s grave was fresh. The headstone still smelled of cut stone and fresh blood. His body, wrapped in war robes, had been sealed with ancient enchantments. Even ordinary death did not satisfy him-it required rituals, sacrifices, and black fire. The throne had never accepted a body without first burning the soul.
Elara knelt down. For the first time since her father’s death, she allowed herself to cry.
But her tears did not fall out of longing.
They fell out of anger.
“You destroyed everything,” she murmured, staring at the tombstone. “You made me an instrument, a puppet… a pawn in a game I didn’t even understand.”
But she understood now.
The empire was rotting from within. It had been for decades. Maybe centuries. And the Drakov… the Drakov were the poisoned heart of it all.
And yet, she carried the name.
Elara Drakov. Princess of an empire of shadows.
- What would you do, Father, if you were in my place? Would you kill the weak? Would you silence those who disagree? Or would you betray those you love, as you betrayed me?
The stone, of course, did not respond.
But when she rose, there was another presence in the crypt.
Darius.
“I waited until the screaming died down,” he said, emerging from the shadows like an extension of them. “They are divided. Gaius wants the regency. The clans threaten to withdraw. And the bloodlords… they are just waiting for their next bath.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared at him.
- Do you hate me? - she asked.
- No.
- So why did you come back?
- Because I saw what you could be. Before you did. And because… if I don’t help you, someone will kill you. Or worse: use you.
Silence.
The past between them was like an open wound. They had loved once. In the hidden gardens of Erendis, back when Elara still believed the throne could be just. But her father had sent him away. Declared him a traitor. And she…she had let him.
Now, there, alone among the dead, they were not princess and general.
They were two broken pieces from a bloody board.
-The empire will not accept a woman on the throne-she said.
- So don’t be just a woman. Be something new. Something they’ve never seen. Be the end of the old order. And the beginning of what’s to come.
She stared at him.
- And what do you want in return?
Darius gave a slight smile.
- Just listen to me. Not always. But when necessary. When you’re about to fall.
- I might fall today.
- Then listen to me now.
Silence.
Elara nodded.
- Very well. If you’re going to fall… you’ll fall with me too.
He reached out his hand.
And, in that crypt, between unspoken promises and unconfessed secrets, the alliance that would change the destiny of the empire was born.
Unofficial. Unceremonial.
But real.
Made of what mattered most: distrustful trust.
And blood still warm.
Chapter 3 - The Shadow Council
The Hall of Echoes was at the heart of the Crimson Palace-a subterranean chamber where even light hesitated to enter. The walls were covered in darkened mirrors and purple velvets that absorbed sound, forcing everyone present to whisper… and therefore listen.
It was there that the Shadow Council met, an unwritten tradition that predated even the first vampire emperor. A place where real decisions were made, away from the gilded halls and the crowds.
When Elara entered, everyone was already in their seats.
Dom Gaius Valen, his ornate armor and eyes as gray as worn steel, occupied the center chair-temporarily. To his right, Lysendra Kael’Tor, matriarch of the Mist Clan, wore black veils and necklaces of enchanted bones. Her amber eyes glowed in the shadows. To his left, Archivist Maeron, leader of the Imperial Wizards, stood silently, his hands scarred with runes and centuries.
Others were present as well: minor representatives of the outlying clans, rebellious nobles with sharp smiles, and spies dressed as advisors.
Elara did not ask permission to sit.
She walked in and took the empty seat across from Gaius.
“Your Highness,” Gaius said, his tone poisoned with courtesy, “this meeting is reserved for the de facto regents. Heirs await their turn.”
She stared at him.
- I am the Emperor’s daughter. By ancient law and by blood, I am heir to the Blood Throne. And this meeting, regent or not, concerns me.
Lysendra laughed softly.
- I already like her. She speaks with venom.
Gaius slammed his fist on the table.
- The empire is in ruins! The clans threaten to secede, the revolutionaries call for uprisings in the provinces, and our army is divided. We need order, not emotional speeches.
- No, - Elara interrupted, - you want control. That’s all. You want to wear the skin of the empire and pretend it’s still a living body.
The silence that followed was tense, like the edge of a blade between ribs.
“I propose a triple regency,” she said. “Temporary. I represent the imperial line. Lysendra, the clans. And Maeron, the wizards.”
- And me? - growled Gaius.
- You… - Elara turned slowly to him - are the executor. Loyal to the crown. No voice in the council. But with military authority to keep the peace.
Gaius nearly exploded.
But before he could protest, Lysendra spoke:
- I accept.
Maeron inclined his head.
- Balance is preferable to chaos.
The maneuver was done.
The throne was still empty.
But Elara was already beginning to rule from the shadows.
Gaius gritted his teeth. His wounded pride was visible. But he knew that for now he was surrounded. And men like Gaius don’t explode-they wait.
As the council dispersed, Darius approached Elara in the dark corridors.
- That was a scam, not a proposal.
“Everything is a scam here,” she said. “They just change the weapons.”
-And how long until Gaius retaliates?
She stared at him.
- He’s already started. He’s just choosing where to cut first.
Darius nodded.
- Then we better cut it first.
That night, in secret, the first spies loyal to Elara were sent to the northern provinces. They brought seals, letters, and promises. A new empire was beginning to form-not on the throne, but on the margins.
And in the Hall of Echoes, the black mirror that reflected the throne chair… cracked for the first time in centuries.
Chapter 4 - The Mark of Betrayal
Dawn in Valarenth had broken in silence.
There were no bells that day, no chants from the priestesses of the Crimson Moon. The heavy clouds refused to lift, and even the crows that circled the rooftops seemed restless, as if they smelled betrayal on the wind.
Elara woke to the sound of metal scraping against stone.
In his chamber protected by three layers of guards and spells, someone had managed to enter.
She rolled to her side seconds before the blade touched her pillow. A sure blow-and silent. The dagger dug into the mattress with a cold force, as if it were part of the killer himself. The shadow before her was lithe, dressed in the colors of the Silents-a group trained since childhood to kill without sound, without soul, without mercy.
But Elara was no ordinary princess.
In a single movement, she spun out of bed, pulling a stake hidden in the side of the wall. Trained for years by her exiled uncle, she learned to survive before she learned to rule.
The fight didn’t last long. The assassin was fast, but he didn’t expect the princess to react like a warrior.
As he fell, gasping, Elara drove the stake into his shoulder, immobilizing him.
- Who sent you?
The man smiled.
And it burned inside.
Black flames, forbidden magics-blood sorcery.
All that was left was a dark stain on the ground and a whisper that hung in the air:
“She must not ascend.”
Minutes later, Darius walked in, sword drawn, eyes wild.
- Are you hurt?
She shook her head, still panting.
- No. But someone wanted to make sure I don’t see the next full moon.
Darius sifted through the charred remains of the killer, and what he found made him freeze.
- This is ancient blood magic. Umbrae Clan.
- Are they with Lysendra?
- No. They’re with whoever pays the most.
Elara sat up slowly. Her thoughts were spinning like blades. The attack had not been a desperate act. It had been coordinated. Cold. The kind of blow you would expect from someone close to you.
That same morning, she called a closed meeting.
Darius. Lysendra. Maeron. And the new spymaster, Corvin, a man with a pale face and perpetually half-closed eyes, as if he saw everything… and nothing.
- A traitor walks among us - Elara said, staring at the three.
Lysendra arched an eyebrow.
- If I wanted to kill you, princess, I would use poison. Or words.
“I believe you,” Elara lied. “But someone here gave access to my chamber. And whoever it was, used the Umbrae Clan.”
Maeron inclined his head.
- There are ways to find out. But they require blood… and a name.
Corvin, the spy, took a piece of cloth from his pocket. On it was the still-warm black wax seal.
-Found near the closed library. Mark of Gaius Valen.
Darius moved like lightning.
- I can kill you now.
“No,” Elara snapped. “If we kill him without proof, we give the aristocrats a martyr. We need to expose him in public.”
- And how do you intend to do that?
Elara looked up.
- With a trap. Using what he fears most: my ascension.
That night, she called the people to a proclamation.
In the center of Piazza Rubra, before thousands of citizens, nobles and soldiers, Elara announced that she would be crowned as Empress Regent in seven days.
A direct blow to Gaius’ ambition. And an invitation to despair for the traitors.
Because whoever tried to stop her… would reveal themselves.
Chapter 5 - The Seven Days of Wrath
The seven days that followed the announcement of the coronation were like an invisible siege. There were no cannons or walls, but everyone felt the pressure-as if the very air were charged with gunpowder ready to explode.
Elara didn’t sleep.
He spent his nights studying old succession treaties, maps of rebellious provinces, names of disappeared nobles and generals with hidden debts. The throne was not conquered by sword or blood right alone. It was conquered by the mind, by anticipation… by manipulation.
And she was willing to play the way her father played-maybe better.
On the First Day, the heralds carried their proclamation to the four corners of the empire. In Tenebrax, the high clerics of the Cult of the Eternal Blood refused to endorse it, declaring neutrality. A silence that spoke louder than a thousand words.
On the Second Day, a poisoning attempt was foiled in the banquet hall. The cup Elara would never touch contained a witch’s tear-an ancient, undetectable, and always lethal toxin. Suspicion fell on one of the servants…but before he could be questioned, he bit off his tongue and died laughing.
On the Third Day, rumors began to circulate that Elara was illegitimate-the daughter of a human concubine. The lie spread like wildfire among the elder clans, ever thirsty for excuses to deny a female empress.
Darius took care of this personally.
On the evening of the third day, three heralds of Gaius were found tongueless and handless, hanging in the public square with signs reading: “Lies have a price.”
Elara reprimanded him in public.
And he thanked him privately.
On the Fourth Day, Lysendra met with Elara in the forbidden gardens of the palace-where the ground still whispered ancient names, and no magic could be heard by spies.
“The clans want guarantees,” Lysendra said, sipping dark wine from a silver cup. “Freedom to keep their lands, their rituals. No one wants an empress who thinks like her father.”
“Then perhaps it is time to show that you are with me,” Elara replied. “When the coronation comes, I want representatives of the six great clans to swear their loyalty to me in front of the people.”
- If they don’t accept?
- Then I destroy them one by one. Or… I let them devour each other.
Lysendra smiled. It was the smile of a predator recognizing another.
- You are learning.
On the Fifth Day, Archivist Maeron disappeared.
His tower was found in absolute silence, as if time had stopped there. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood. Only a symbol scratched into the ash floor: a closed eye engulfed in flames.
Darius was alarmed.
- This is ancient. Pre-imperial. Symbol of the Order of the Veil-conjurers who sought to erase the world from memory.
“Someone took him out of the game,” Elara said. “Because he knew too much… or he knew something we didn’t.”
- Or maybe he ran away.
-No one escapes the Crimson Palace without being seen. Not even a mouse.
