Order To Read Throne Of Glass Novelas e Histórias

The throne stood high with spikes on the sides. I felt small sitting in the surprisingly comfortable chair. It felt like sheep wool. It didn't take long when a tray appeared, polished silver, and upon it rested a crystal glass already filled. They knelt, heads bowed, as if my breath alone might scorch them. I reached forward, fingers curling around the stem. The glass was cool, heavy, the scent of iron rising sharp against my senses. Tilting it once, I watched the liquid cling to the rim before letting it kiss my lips.

Damon knelt beside it, his expression darkening as he lifted a bloodied piece of fabric from inside. “What is that?” Hazel asked, her voice trembling. “It’s mine,” Damon said, his voice low and furious. Hazel’s stomach churned as realization dawned. “Someone in the castle is working with the Order.” Damon rose to his feet, his presence radiating anger. “And they won’t get away with it.” --- As night fell, Hazel stood on the castle’s battlements, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The pendant hummed softly against her chest, its glow a reminder of the prophecy that bound her fate.

With a deafening crack, the stone split open. And beyond was darkness. Cold, thick, ancient. And in the center of the room… A single pedestal. And upon it - a book. Bound in silver and gold, its cover marked with a sigil Lyra had only seen in her visions. The mark of the gods. Killian exhaled sharply. “The First Queen’s own account. Her words.” Lyra stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for it. As soon as her fingers touched the cover - the world shifted.

The parchment unfurled with a soft crackle, ink shimmering like molten gold. She read aloud: “By decree of the Three Thrones of Luminary—the Sun Throne of Solaris, the Moon Throne of Lunaris, and the Night Throne of Noctis—Princess Alessia Keren Endymion is hereby summoned to appear at the Imperial Conclave in seven days’ time for judgment, recognition, and ascension review.” Seraphine’s knees buckled. “Ascension?! Princess Alessia is sixteen!” Eryx groaned, “They’re out of their minds.”

Bullets chased after my heels like a storm. I pulled the trigger without hesitation. The explosion swallowed half the desert. Fire erupted into the night as the shockwave hurled me through the air. I crashed into the sand, drowning in blood while flames flickered at the edges of my vision. Slowly, I reached up and tore the Heart of Protection necklace from my throat. Then I threw it into the fire. Before consciousness slipped away completely, I saw helicopters descending from the sky, each one marked with my family's crest. Through my fading vision, men in black suits poured from the cabins and dropped to one knee in the sand in perfect unison.

Ela looked at the notebook in her hand. "The framing," she said. "I want to go over it tonight. Before the session request is filed." "Come to study after dinner," Mara said. "I will," Ela said. She looked at the city around Ashford in December, the particular quality of winter light that belonged to this latitude and this season, the familiar and the ordinary and the completely unremarkable texture of a place that had been the backdrop of everything. She thought about the session ahead. The chamber she had been watching from the gallery for nine years. The table she had been walking toward since she was seven years old at a breakfast table making an announcement in the tone she used for dec

“The loneliness inside the Heart. The need to belong to something greater.” The whispers throughout the chamber intensified immediately. Come home. Take the throne. End the suffering. Aria grabbed her head painfully as the voices slammed through her mind harder now. Then suddenly— The throne itself began glowing. Ancient silver symbols ignited across its surface while the Heart overhead pulsed faster and faster. The First Alpha lifted its massive head slowly again. “The Queen must choose.” The chamber fell silent. Even Veyron stopped speaking. The throne waited.

she replies. The Queen watches her in the mirror, her expression thoughtful but proud. “You will be ready when the time comes,” she says calmly. Outside, the footsteps return. Closer this time. Heavier. Not hurried in joy, but driven by urgency. A murmur rises in the corridor. Low voices. Sharp whispers. Still, inside the chamber, no one pays attention. “Bring the jewels,” the Queen orders. A servant rushes forward with a small carved box, placing it carefully on the nearby table. The lid opens to reveal rows of glittering pieces, gold and gemstones catching the morning light.

Together we climbed the long marble steps toward the throne that had once been stained by my blood. This time— the crown was ours.