Elide Throne Of Glass Novels & Stories

The way she said it, was quiet, certain, like the goddess herself was speaking through her, it made the room go still. After the others dispersed to start the day’s chaos, I stayed behind, watching sunlight creep across the cracked marble floor. It felt surreal. This throne room, once soaked in blood, would soon host a coronation. Wolves would kneel here. Banners would rise and Elara… my Elara… would be crowned queen of Astrid. I found her by the balcony, staring out at the valley where the first construction teams were already gathering. “You should rest,” I said quietly.

The Obsidian Throne Room was quiet except for the soft crackle of black candles and the occasional drip of wax onto marble. Elias Nightshade lounged in the massive chair carved from volcanic glass and bone, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a crystal goblet of blood wine balanced on his fingers. The liquid inside swirled slow and dark, spiced with something older than most of his court could remember. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have looked like a king at ease, beautiful in that deadly way vampires were, midnight hair falling loose around sharp cheekbones, crimson eyes half lidded, lips stained red.

--The Nydisian Kingdom, Eraregord, Royal Academy-- Courtesy of Lucian, who had gone back to the castle two days, he had Llewellyn organize and go through the participants of the tournament, leaving Katherine in Llewellyn's care until he returned. Katherine, however, was partially glad she didn't have to see or speak with Lucian for some time. She walked into the private dining hall that was on a higher floor than the main dining hall. The sun shone through the large glass montage and glowed up the entire private room.

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.

“When she arrives at the meeting place, bring her to the seer. No excuses. We end this madness before she destroys us all.” Her gaze drifted to the flickering light of the candle by the window. In that soft flame, she saw her own reflection…older now, bitter, desperate to protect what little power she had left. She had lost her son long ago, but she would never let Grace’s child, the true heir sit on the throne. Not while she still breathed. ELARA’S POV I was running. Not through the palace, not through any place I recognized, but through a land swallowed by fog. My breath came in short, broken gasps, my feet sinking into soft, endless ground. Every sound echoed, every shadow moved.

Leading east. To the cliff beyond the mortal realm. To the edge of the world. Elias walked. Hours passed. The skies grew darker. Stars began to blink out one by one. Finally, he reached it. A chasm. Endless. Black. Beyond it, a platform—floating in the void. And on it… the throne. It was forged from celestial bones. Wings draped over the back like trophies. The armrests were made from still-living roots—beating faintly with stolen life.

Elara POV I stared at the dress for nearly an hour. Maybe longer. Nobody pushed me. Not Nora. Not Caspian. Not even Silas. The room had become strangely quiet after Genevieve left. Like everyone understood the decision belonged to me. The blue fabric rested across the bed. Waiting. The note sat beside it. "The throne remembers its heir." I hated those words. Because they assumed too much. They assumed certainty. Identity. History. Things I still didn't fully possess.

The booming of music filled my ears, and sheltering myself behind a corner when I heard the clicking of heels on the titled floor. "Right here, princess."Hearing the mention of Elena, I decided to take a peek and surely she was right a few feets before me descending the stairs so gracefully with her purple ball gown and royally looking adornment. Those pairs of hazel eyes was maintained on the staircase, calculating her footings.

"If the girl is of royal blood, the glass will hold. If she is a pretender, the glass will vanish." Morgana stood next to him, a cruel smile on her lips. She leaned over and whispered as I passed her. "Goodbye, little weaver. I hope the shards are sharp." I looked at the start of the bridge. My legs felt like jelly. “Walk,” Alaric’s voice commanded in my head. He was sitting on the throne at the other end of the bridge. He looked powerful, but I could feel his hand gripping the armrest so hard the wood was cracking.