Novel & Cerita Is Throne Of Glass Finished

Standing in front of the raised dais of the throne was King Tobias, his son, Prince Leonidas, and the Royal Beta, Malcolm, all three of them dressed richly and wearing looks of cold indifference. I stepped through the doorway, with two other Alphas flanking me, their betas and Dave just behind us, and a collective gasp went through the room, all eyes drawing to the glass window behind the throne. What had been clear glass before was now becoming stained glass. The deep blues and purples and greens and reds returned to the masterpiece, restoring it to how it had been, how each of us had seen it represented in our history books. It started slowly, from the edges of the masterpiece, the colors

After a few seconds, I had dropped a single drop in each glass and capped it back, noticing that it still had half of it left for what I had to do next. Also check out my other books CAGED- A Dark Billionaire Captive Romance and HIS BROKEN PRINCESS!

The scene changed again. We were in the suite in the villa. He heard me pounding on the door with all my strength, screaming for help until my voice broke. He clutched his head, shaking. "No… That's not how it was… I didn't…" The scene shifted once more. It was the night before the final exams. Wendy came to me with red, tearful eyes, begging me to help her cheat. I refused without hesitation, and then, everything unfolded, from how she found those thugs, how she staged it all, how she framed me step by step.

“But not before I ruin you… they’ll all want you. You’ll probably like it, though, being the creature you are.” “What are you talking about, Tara?!” I scream, her rambling confusing the hell out of me. She laughs lightly, flicking the lighter back on. “You’ll see. They’ll come… me and Lawrence will have our happy ending,” her eyes turn to me. “You don’t get one.” The next moments move in slow motion. The lighter stays lit as Tara opens her hand and lets it fall. But she turns from me with one last hateful and pained stare and climbs out the window. I gasp as she jumps into the rain.

Rune Elarion, Princess Regent of the Bleeding Throne, said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She stood at the head of the table, her copper hair braided back, the circlet above her head burning with starfire. Rune was beautiful, but as deadly as any of us sitting here. “Who will go first?” she said, finally taking her seat. “I’ll start,” Amyra offered, her blood-red lips curving into a smile. “Three more covens have gone dark this month. It seems the witches are vanishing. Not running but vanishing. They leave no trace, no blood and no magic signature behind.”

The hall fell silent, the storm of battle broken at last. Serenya lowered her hands, shards slipping through her fingers, her blood mingling with glass on the floor. She felt no triumph, only the weight of what had been lost. A crown of glass could shatter—but could it ever be remade? As silence deepened, Maelis Rowan, the seer, stepped forward from the shadows. Her voice, soft yet heavy with portent, echoed through the hall: “This was not the end, child. Shattered glass gives way to sharper edges. And those edges cut deeper still.”

Maurice said. They seemed to have forgotten all about me as well as the fact that Aunt Melanie had given these things to me. "Ms. Camilla." The chamberlain in charge of delivering the gifts stepped forward. "What you're holding is part of the wedding gifts Her Majesty the empress has prepared for Ms. Giselle. Her Majesty made it clear that no one other than Ms. Giselle is to touch these things. Please put the pearl back and don't make things difficult for us."

“Then don’t. But know this—if you don’t give the story its ending… I will.” Behind the girl, the bookshelves ignited, burning with letters that had never been allowed to finish forming. Screams rose—not of pain, but of unfinished names. Elthara reached for the gold thread that still looped around her wrist, but it frayed at her touch. The narrative was shifting again, too many versions of herself now bleeding into one another. And just before the fire consumed the last title, the girl reached into Elthara’s chest and pulled out a page—and it was blank

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.

He waved a hand toward the spectral woman, who rolled her eyes and vanished into a puff of smoke, leaving the faint scent of lilies in her wake. Thanion didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on Zeus, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight. “Why are you here?” Zeus took a step closer, the golden embroidery on his robes catching the faint light. “I’ve come to discuss your future bride.” There was a moment of silence, heavy and palpable. Thanion’s brows drew together, and his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles flexing beneath the loose fabric of his shirt. “Bride?” he echoed, his voice low and tinged with incredulity.