Aedion Throne Of Glass Novels & Stories

He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, driving the blade deeper. The throne cracked. The ruins trembled as the very foundation of Dawnfire groaned under the weight of what was happening. The Veilblade pulsed wildly, its glow consuming the darkness. The throne let out one final, deafening cry before it shattered completely. And then, silence. The air was still. The darkness had receded. The throne was gone. Elior fell to one knee, breathless. The Veilblade, its purpose fulfilled, flickered before vanishing from his grip. He looked up, meeting the gaze of the First King.

she said, taking Victoria's hand and trying not to think about how those red nails looked like freshly painted daggers. The interior of the Elysian mansion hit her. She was wowed withmarble floors, artwork that belonged in museums, and a chandelier that could pay for Josephine's entire treatment. Isabella forced herself not to stare, but damn if it wasn't hard when everything screamed old money and power.

The maid quarters were a beautiful representation of the kingdom of Ghandor. In the early morning, a cold air blew back and forth, causing shivers. Multiple groups of men practice swordplay, as usual, with distant metal striking metal. He remembered the maidens and the over ten contenders who are getting ready for the second round, battling for His affection. Prince Kohl reached out of his bed, glanced out the window, and heard a silent whisper, a voice echoing,'she is the queen of the iron throne'. He looked around his bedroom and wondered whether he was having a hallucination. 'No, this is real,' he exclaimed.

Today, they took this walk together, and to her, the thrones awaiting them at the end were not half as important as the man next to her. Yes, the thrones. Once different like day and night, one black, one gold, they were now a matching pair. Nathaniel had made himself clear in this regard: Katherine's throne had to be just as big as his own and of similar form. Yet the craftsman had taken his freedom on the material, surprising everyone. Beside the obsidian throne with the sharp black icicles on top, stood a throne out of glass. Minuscle diamonds, inlaid in the lean, fractured the sunlight that shone through the windows on the left and filled the whole, formerly dark hall with sparkles of li

Yes… burn for me. The fire didn’t fade. It spread. Silver light raced across the void, fracturing the dark. Adrien screamed as it poured out of him, searing, breaking, consuming his every nerve. And for the first time, he saw. A throne. High above, carved into nothingness itself, draped in veils of starlight and chains of bone. And upon it, A figure. Her. The one Kael had whispered of. The one the cloaked master had sought. The one tied to Liora.

Darnon led her up the main steps, past two more guards who opened the double doors carved from pure mythril without a word. The throne room was bigger than she expected. Cold marble floors and dark wooden furniture. A large hearth that ran the length of one wall was lit up with blue fire. Banners hung from the rafters, black with silver wolf sigils. At the far end, on a dais of raw stone, sat a throne made of ice. And on it, sat Adrian. He wasn’t wearing his majestic pelt today. Just a black tunic, sleeves rolled up, forearms bare and scarred. His hair was damp from the cold, sticking to his forehead. He looked up the moment the doors opened.

I can already see it in my mind, the King raising the goblet, the faint tremor in his hand as his heart slows, his breath hitching before silence swallows the hall. And me, watching. The loyal son. The future ruler. A door opens behind me. “Zeus.” Adira’s voice. Light, lilting, but strained at the edges. She walks in, her gown whispering against the floor. “It’s done?” she asks. I nod once. “He’ll drink it tonight.” Her lips curl into a small smile. “Then by dawn, the throne will be ours.” “Ours,” I echo, though the word tastes foreign on my tongue.

My reflection walks beside me, but her eyes are older, angrier. At the end: two doors of obsidian carved with a serpent devouring its own tail. They open inward. The throne room of Eldoria. It is vast and hollow and beautiful in the way a wound is beautiful. The floor is polished black glass reflecting a ceiling of living stars. Columns of shadow twist upward. Silver fire burns in braziers shaped like screaming mouths. At the far end, on a throne of coiled obsidian serpents, sits a man. No. Not a man.

This time around, there was no sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling, only silver rays from the moon. Several feet in front of the thrones sat a bowl raised up on a dais. Within the bowl, licking up the sides like the fingers of a monstrous beast, were tendrils of flame. The soft click of heels sounded for several seconds until Solana appeared in the doorway with Adonis and another male in tow. This male did not look clean or healthy the way Solana and her consort did. He was haggard, with knots of tangled hair hanging around his shoulders. Dark circles lined his eyes. Eyes that scoured the room feverishly.

I feel my lungs begin to burn as we reach the top. There’s no time to recover, the view into the throne room shows that Cora has already infiltrated the tower. She is fighting Absalom and Aphrodite, while Hades watches on. I recognise where I am. The ancient mirror that Zeus proudly hangs on the wall is in fact a doorway of two-way glass. “To our daughter,” Hephaestus says with steel in his eyes. I nod in agreement, and he forces the door open. Together we charge into the throne room. I barrel into Aphrodite, sending her flying across the floor of the throne room, while Hephaestus assaults Absalom with fire.