Novel & Cerita Are Acotar And Throne Of Glass Connected

And still yet, that remains the least confusing thing, as what is, is the finding of the stake of Adonis, which was used to kill King Orrin. So many questions left unanswered, because yet, I never expected the Lord of the heavens to let such happen, without giving us any kind of sign. Still yet still, it is still a sign from him that each and every God he created is now in danger, meaning a new supernatural has risen, or it could be a supernatural who has always been there.

She looked like a fragile little girl with a crown of King on her head. Yes, king. The crown which Thea was wearing belonged to the Kings of lycans. The crown belonged to Ares. The lycan King. Thea looked around when she saw a throne. The throne was majestic. She frowned. Why is there a throne in the basement? She went near the throne. Something compelled her to go near it. She didn't knew why but she placed the Crown on the throne.

Until now. And the stunt with the water and wine? Calculated. He was sure of it. A distraction, a deflection. She was hiding something. His grip tightened on the glass. Alexander was always the favourite, the golden boy. Now he was trying to cement his status with this...this imposter. Not on Nathan's watch. Nathan sank into his chair, mind racing. There was more to this than just some social-displaying girlfriend. No, Isabella Taylor reeked of secrets. Secrets that could unravel everything he had worked for.

The mortar that bound the stones carried flecks of battlefield ash, a silent promise that their sacrifice would never be forgotten. Where the legendary Nightglass Throne once loomed, an obsidian seat carved to resemble a crown of icicles, now stood a simpler chair: fashioned from blackened moonwood and braided phoenix feathers, veins of gold running through its curves. It neither towered nor dazzled. It waited.

But the peace was fragile. From the shadows emerged twisted forms—phantoms of Malrik's making, manifestations of doubt and despair. Ava's heart pounded as each shadow whispered her fears: You're not strong enough. Your mother failed. You will lose everything. But Ava drew strength from Ashton's unwavering gaze and the bond that tethered them. She stepped forward, her magic flaring in brilliant blue and white. "This ends now," she declared. The battle was fierce. Ava's magic clashed with shadows that clawed at her mind, while Ashton fought off the phantom warriors with swift, lethal precision.

The half-bloods, Vrykolakas, and monstrous beasts not yet born howled in a cacophony of chaos. There, on a crumbling throne in the distance, sat Aaron, alive but different. He was pale with black markings wrapped like tendrils around his body. Bleeding and shackled in silver. No matter how much she tried to get to him, she couldn’t. It was as if her body had a mind of its own and wasn’t fully under her control, and in this realm, all she could do was watch and not interfere. Beside Aaron stood a crowned woman, her face cloaked in shadows, but her eyes shone silver.

The pack gathered in a clearing as the full moon rose, silvering everything in ethereal light. I stood at the center in a simple white dress, barefoot on the cool grass. Kade stood across from me in traditional Alpha formal wear, looking devastatingly handsome. Elder Margaret presided over the ceremony, her voice ringing out clear and strong. “We gather tonight to witness the bonding of Alpha Kade Blackthorn and Aria Silvermoon, last heir of the royal bloodline, Celestial Wolf.” She looked at us both. “This bond is sacred, eternal, and unbreakable. Do you both enter into it freely and with full understanding?”

“It predates the formation of the Packs. It speaks of a rare awakening — of a wolf carrying a crescent who shall rise only when a great shadow seeks to reclaim what was stolen.” I swallowed. “Read it.” His finger traced the faded ink. “When the Crescent awakens, the Shadow will demand what was once stolen. When the Moon-Blessed stirs, power shall rise in equal measure — light and darkness in pursuit. She who bears the silver arc shall bind the broken. She shall be the key. She shall be the weapon. And she shall be the throne others seek to claim.” My blood went cold. She shall be the throne. Someone wanted her. Someone powerful.

“Do you feel it too?” She swallowed. “Feel what?” “This.” His hand slid over her stomach, stopping just beneath her ribs, where the glow settled. “Like something in you has… chosen.” Her breath trembled. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Luca lowered himself again, pressing a kiss to the spot under her ribs—light, reverent, almost worshipful. Althea shivered. Her magic shivered with her. Outside, the storm cracked open. Across the city, as the Sombra Tower, a wave of pressure hits the ancestral wards so violently that three of the oldest mirrors shatter in perfect unison.

Sirena’s gaze dropped to the waves below, heavy with sorrow. “She is my blood. My heir. I will not abandon her again.” Atlas’s silence stretched long. Finally, he said, “Then prepare yourself, Queen of the Northern Sea. Because claiming her will not only expose your secret—it will bring war to our waters.” The tide surged at his words, restless and wild, as though the ocean itself knew that the storm had begun.