The Vampire's Heir: Even When the Throne Stands Empty, the Blood Will Still Choose Its Heir (The Vampire's Oath Series, #4) (eBook, ePUB)
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The kings are gone, but their blood remembers.In the silence that followed the fall of the Blood Choir, peace grew from the ashes like something no one believed could live. The city breathes again-its wells whisper water instead of vows, its gardens bloom without asking for sacrifice. Yet under every stone, beneath every name newly inked into law, the past still hums.Corin, once the archivist of the Blood Library and unwilling vessel of an ancient curse, stands as the last living link to an age of crimson thrones. His blood carries the memory of the first kings-Lucien and Elias-whose love crea...
The kings are gone, but their blood remembers.
In the silence that followed the fall of the Blood Choir, peace grew from the ashes like something no one believed could live. The city breathes again-its wells whisper water instead of vows, its gardens bloom without asking for sacrifice. Yet under every stone, beneath every name newly inked into law, the past still hums.
Corin, once the archivist of the Blood Library and unwilling vessel of an ancient curse, stands as the last living link to an age of crimson thrones. His blood carries the memory of the first kings-Lucien and Elias-whose love created a bond so strong it defied time, and doomed those born after them. Their voices still echo in him: one sharp as a blade, the other soft as prayer. They do not command him now; they remember through him.
But peace is never silent for long. The new council-hungry, fearful-whispers that the Blood Oath must return, that without a king, the city will fracture. House Karst and House Vesper gather followers in the dark, their choirs tuning old hymns for a new age. And when the forbidden harmonics stir, the ground itself trembles-as if the dead still listen.
Corin refuses the crown they offer. He has no throne, only memory, and a mark beneath his heart that glows when the old names are spoken. Auren's absence is its own haunting-his body lost to light, his voice folded into Corin's blood like a promise that refuses to fade. Every heartbeat carries the ghost of him; every silence bears his laughter. And in that union of mortal and immortal, of love and ruin, Corin finds his reason to stand when the world kneels again.
The ghosts of kings speak through him: We are not gods. We are what love leaves behind.
Now Corin must guard a fragile peace built not on obedience, but choice. He must teach a city raised on devotion to survive without worship. And when the old hymns rise once more-when the scent of blood calls to memory, when the roses turn red at his touch-he must decide whether love can save a world that learned to kill in its name.
In the end, this is not a story of thrones. It is a requiem for an empire that mistook control for devotion. It is the tale of men who carried the sins of kings and turned them into something human.
When the dust settles and the songs are done, there will be no rulers left to name.
Only blood that beats with love- and names sworn never to be forgotten again. สรุปว่าอันนี้ถูกต้องใช่ไหม
In the silence that followed the fall of the Blood Choir, peace grew from the ashes like something no one believed could live. The city breathes again-its wells whisper water instead of vows, its gardens bloom without asking for sacrifice. Yet under every stone, beneath every name newly inked into law, the past still hums.
Corin, once the archivist of the Blood Library and unwilling vessel of an ancient curse, stands as the last living link to an age of crimson thrones. His blood carries the memory of the first kings-Lucien and Elias-whose love created a bond so strong it defied time, and doomed those born after them. Their voices still echo in him: one sharp as a blade, the other soft as prayer. They do not command him now; they remember through him.
But peace is never silent for long. The new council-hungry, fearful-whispers that the Blood Oath must return, that without a king, the city will fracture. House Karst and House Vesper gather followers in the dark, their choirs tuning old hymns for a new age. And when the forbidden harmonics stir, the ground itself trembles-as if the dead still listen.
Corin refuses the crown they offer. He has no throne, only memory, and a mark beneath his heart that glows when the old names are spoken. Auren's absence is its own haunting-his body lost to light, his voice folded into Corin's blood like a promise that refuses to fade. Every heartbeat carries the ghost of him; every silence bears his laughter. And in that union of mortal and immortal, of love and ruin, Corin finds his reason to stand when the world kneels again.
The ghosts of kings speak through him: We are not gods. We are what love leaves behind.
Now Corin must guard a fragile peace built not on obedience, but choice. He must teach a city raised on devotion to survive without worship. And when the old hymns rise once more-when the scent of blood calls to memory, when the roses turn red at his touch-he must decide whether love can save a world that learned to kill in its name.
In the end, this is not a story of thrones. It is a requiem for an empire that mistook control for devotion. It is the tale of men who carried the sins of kings and turned them into something human.
When the dust settles and the songs are done, there will be no rulers left to name.
Only blood that beats with love- and names sworn never to be forgotten again. สรุปว่าอันนี้ถูกต้องใช่ไหม
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