Ghostwriterr

"They say power corrupts... but what if corruption was the price of power?"

Lucian never sought power—he only wanted to save his grandfather. But when he inherits the Book of Envy, a cursed tome that grants desires at a terrible cost, he is thrown into a world where the strong devour the weak.

To master the book, he must train under Veyren, the twisted holder of the Book of Lost. Along the way, he meets Kael, a skilled swordsman with the Book of Blades—a boy whose abilities Lucian secretly covets.

Betrayal, obsession, and an unstoppable hunger for strength drive Lucian down a path of no return.

But what happens when he faces a power too great to steal?

A dark fantasy tale of ambition, sacrifice, and the descent into power.

Hollow Crown: The Book of Envy

Lucian's grip on his katana was iron-tight, his mind racing. His body screamed at him to move, to react, to do something—but deep down, he knew.

Loki sat atop his broken pillar, legs crossed lazily, fingers drumming against his knee. His mismatched eyes gleamed, his smile still sharp, still amused.

"Tell me, little thief," Loki mused, tilting his head, "do you think power is something you earn?"

Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course you don't. You already know the truth, don't you?"

His smile widened, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Power doesn't belong to the deserving."

He spread his arms, as if gesturing to something grand, something unseen.

"It belongs to the one who takes it."

Loki's voice dropped lower, softer—but every word carried weight.

"The world isn't fair. It was never built for the weak. Strength isn't a gift. It isn't a reward for the righteous. It is a simple, undeniable rule."****"Those who have it—take. Those who don't—are taken from."

His gaze bore into Lucian, playful but predatory.

"You should understand that better than anyone."

Loki leaned forward, resting his chin against his palm. "But here's the difference between you and me, little thief."

His grin widened, his voice laced with something dark, something absolute.

Lucian barely saw the movement—**a flicker, a shift in the air—**before a force slammed into his chest.

He staggered, gasping as he hit the ground, his vision blurring for a moment. He hadn't even seen Loki move.

By the time he looked up—Loki was gone.

Only his voice remained, carried by the wind.

"Come find me when you're worth stealing from."

And just like that, the presence vanished.

Lucian stayed on the ground for a long moment, his heart pounding in his ears.

He had thought himself strong. Thought himself capable.

But standing before Loki, he had been nothing.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet.

There was only one place to go now.

Back to becoming someone that could take.

The World Belongs to the One Who Takes