Novel & Cerita Is Throne Of Glass Finished

Toward the truth that had been waiting for her since before she was born. Behind her, carved in the ancient stone, new words appeared in glowing script. The merger awakens. The heir claims her blood. And the Silver Queen's reign ends where it began. With a Nightshade standing at the gates.

The list ran long and she left it. What was being carried forward: the Accord mechanism's remaining operational phases. The governance review's third stage. The medical programme's second wing, construction scheduled for spring. Three dormant bloodline cases still in progress. And the bond is warm and constant, not demanding, simply present, the most reliable thing in her interior landscape. She closed the notebook.

“I’m right here.” I pulled my hand away before he could touch me. “I, Elara Thorne,” I began. The name Thorne hit the crowd like a physical blow. I heard gasps everywhere. Rowan went pale, his jaw dropping. “Elara Thorne?” Aiden whispered, confused. “What are you talking about?” I ignored him and continued, my voice growing stronger. “Rightful heir of the Nightshade Pack and daughter of the true King, hereby reject Aiden Blackwood as my fated mate.”

“Hey. Look at me.” I did. His presence anchored me—but the pull didn’t stop. One of the Thrones glowed brighter than the rest. Different. Older. Its markings were fractured, incomplete, as if it had once been destroyed and rebuilt poorly. “That one,” Kaelith breathed. “That’s new.” Ashael’s expression hardened. “No,” it said. “That is repaired.” The Absolute the Old Standard intended to crown. It wasn’t empty. A shadow sat within it—unformed, restless, waiting for a body strong enough to survive it.

He would die on these walls because I would ensure Asher's forces were positioned perfectly to slaughter the assault. And in the chaos of battle the wolf Queen would suffer an unfortunate accident. A stray blade. A rogue attacker. The kind of tragedy that happened in war. Gabriel would claim the Crescent Moon territory. I would claim the Lycan throne through regency that would become permanent when Asher proved incapable of recovering from his mate's death. The kingdom would be purified. The wolves exiled. The natural order restored. Everything I had worked toward for twenty years would finally come to pass. I walked to the window. Looked out over the kingdom sleeping beneath a cold moon.

We stood side by side, receiving the blessings and cheers of all present. On my finger glittered a massive diamond ring, a symbol of the alliance between two mafia families. Behind me stood a knight whose loyalty would never waver. Beneath me lay a vast empire, growing at a staggering pace. As for love? It had been buried three months ago in that blood-soaked casino, along with my shattered right hand. For me, love no longer existed. And now, the new commander rose, her reign beginning with absolute authority.

Her hair lifted in a wind that wasn’t there. Something moved in the glass. Not her. Not the room. Something just beyond the surface is leaning in. The same wrongness from her dorm. From the shadows that had thickened when she’d flared before. Something old. Patient. Watching. Her magic surged toward it like a tide. “No,” she gasped. She dropped to her knees. Pain ripped up her leg as she landed on the broken glass. Shard bit deep into her bare feet, into the skin beneath the robe’s hem. Warm wetness bloomed, soaking into the silk.

Landon POV Ten years on this throne. No Mark. No Mate. And three months… “Turn around and take off your robes.” The high priestess’s voice rang loudly across the throne room, interrupting my thoughts. “Your grace? You can check now.” Tristan, my beta whispered. “They are all the remaining maidens born under the blood moon.” I lifted my head, my eyes roamed across their bare backs—one after the other till the last one standing, and it was all empty—their lower back.

I would hold the Silver Fang’s fate in my palm, and through that, hold the pack. I raised the glass to the empty chamber, to the ghost of Elena Blackwood and the other fools who died unaware of the threads around them. “To converge,” I said quietly. “And the beautiful chaos it will bring.” I drank, tasting not only whiskey but the sharp promise of a design finally set in motion. The endgame had begun. No one would see me clearly until it was too late.

Her blade trembled in her grasp—not from fear, but fury. “She’s a piece of memory,” she spat. “A shadow caught in your lie. And I will not let you twist what’s left of her.” The queen tilted her head. “I don’t need to twist anything. I’m simply completing the story your world never let finish.” The mirror behind her began to rotate slowly—counter-clockwise, like a great eye turning its gaze inward. Runes spiraled around its frame, illuminating in order, matching the phases of the moon. When they completed the circle, Aelin sensed the veil would fall completely.