Fenrys Throne Of Glass Novels & Stories

Her bottom lip quivers and I see her eyes sparkle once more, filling with tears she isn’t allowing to fall. Fenrir turns away from her and I see him grab a nine-tail whip, which consists of nine individual rope ends with silver hooked blades at the end to break skin. The silver isn’t toxic to her, so it shouldn’t poison her. Then he places a big clear glass jar with black thick liquid inside. Obsidian. He dips the silver blades into it, coating them in the black liquid. She closes her eyes and I hear her let out a deep breath as he makes his way behind her. He raises his arm and with the first crack, her head flies up and her eyes glow gold. I see her clench her jaw, not letting a single noi

“Girls! Enough whispering. Selene, try to act like a proper Moonbane omega tonight. For once.” I turned and gave her my best polite nod. “Of course, Aunt Ysara.” She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me for one second before sweeping out of the room. Liora leaned in close, whispering like a little devil on my shoulder. “She didn’t say anything about sneaking wine.” I blinked. “Please tell me you didn’t.” She grinned and tapped her clutch. “A full flask. We’re going to survive this night.” The journey to the neutral lands—lush forest territory claimed by no pack—was filled with stiff silence, fake smiles, and the uncomfortable tension of trying not to breathe too loud next to people who’

Then he gave a slow nod to his men. He looked at Sergio with unbridled hatred. "This isn't over, not by a long short. I will be back to claim what is mine." One by one, they backed off. Fading into smoke. Into retreat. ************************************************** The silence that followed was deafening. Rosana stood alone in the center of the destroyed hallway, her dress streaked with soot and blood. A shard of broken mirror leaned against the wall nearby, reflecting pieces of her—sharp, splintered, unrecognizable.

And in a voice as old as the stars, she said: > “Then choose, flamechild. Sit the throne—or watch your twin take your place.” --- Silence. Theron trembled. Selene felt her heart split. And then— He turned. And walked away from the throne. “No,” he said. The realm trembled. The Queen laughed—once. And vanished in fire. --- The throne cracked. The girl disappeared like smoke. The realm pulsed once—twice— And began to collapse. --- Kael grabbed Selene’s hand. “Go!” They ran—Elira holding Theron’s hand, Rowan and Naeria shielding them with bursts of raw magic as the mirror realm crumbled behind them.

Entombed within a towering block of solid, crystalline ice behind the throne was a majestic, ancient figure—a she-wolf progenitor clad in armour of pure silver, her eyes frozen open in a stare of pure, ancient authority. As Clara stepped forward, carrying the baby, a single drop of royal hybrid blood from the infant's foot dripped onto the stone pedestal before the throne. The block of ice let out a loud, terrifying crack. A deep female voice, ancient and resonant, vibrated in their minds: ""The blood of gold and fire has returned... The throne stirs.

Otsana’s gold mark burned beside me, but its light bent toward the throne like a flame leaning toward wind. Ashina sobbed harder, gripping her stomach while Maelor’s heartbeat echoed through the black bone like drums beneath a coronation hall. The first Blood Feather book floated above the throne, no longer thrashing, no longer screaming, but opening itself like a servant obeying its true master. A circle of old blood appeared around the throne’s base, then spread outward until it touched Blackfang warriors and Northridge nobles alike. Conri shouted orders, but the blood ignored every blade, every title, and every frightened foot trying to step away.

“You’re not their savior anymore. You’re their executioner.” “Enough.” Her voice rose, breaking the quiet like a whip. She turned sharply, the long folds of her silver gown whispering across the marble floor. Her reflection shimmered in the obsidian glass of the throne behind her , a queen of ice and fire, her beauty both terrifying and magnetic. Her dark curls framed her pale face, and the faint trace of silver tears dried at the edge of her lashes. But she wasn’t alone.

The silver liquid didn't just pool: it etched. It ate into the black glass floor with a hungry, acidic hiss, carving deep grooves that glowed with a sickly yellow light. I stared at the frost, my breath hitching in a chest that felt like it had been hollowed out with a hot iron. Fenra.

If we ever found ourselves on opposing sides of a conflict, he wouldn't think twice about crushing me. The four kings and their heirs occupy the rest of the chairs: Pakstan of the North with Pharaoah, Theo of the South with Thorn, River of the East, and me, and lastly, Nathan of the fuckin' West with his second son, Elliot. The latter gives me a scowl, and I return it without blinking. He is a little younger than father in age, but he is still tall, and his grey eyes are exceedingly penetrating. Without sure, he is the one who proposed Bella be wed to one of his kids, who are more repulsive than he is.

Nothing can interfere with what I’ve already achieved—the dominion that is now mine. With my right hand, Fenrer, by my side, I walk toward the throne room. The space is vast and majestic, adorned with paintings of the kings who came before me. At the far end stands a massive stone throne atop a grand, elevated platform with a marble staircase leading to it. Behind the throne, the wall is made entirely of stained-glass depicting the phases of the moon. I take in the scene prepared by my soldiers—cameras positioned strategically, lights focused on the throne. I stop in front of it, admiring its grandeur, its power, it's meaning.