Order To Read Throne Of Glass Novels & Stories

DERORA The doors of the throne room opened as derora stepped in. She had returned the prince to Marxis the day before, now was time for the mage to fulfil his part of the deal. Not that she would not kill him in the end, marxis was too cunning a threat to be left alive, but derora needed to make sure no one found the parchment ever again. The useless piece of paper contained the only thing that could serve as her death, It had the last piece of her soul.

(REALITY) “IT’S TIME, RIGHT?” Whispering the words that are set to be a reminder of the inevitable end of the first book and within this world. Chie’s footsteps echo as she walks towards HIM. To HIS throne as HE patiently waiting, along with the walled mirrors at HIS back. Where he put a shadow upon to blend the dimly lighted hall of HIS palace. HE slowly opens HIS eyes as HE looks directly at her who sat on her chair crossing HIS, as HE smiles in a dreaded way and agrees.

It had a short depth and in total the glass in its rounded shape fit perfectly into her palm. "Before wally proceeds, she would like all to to know that the glass of choice does not necessarily choose the next queen, it points out the lady who will bear the next heir to the throne of Luyota which is why the prince has to be betrothed to that very lady. I shall proceed." she slowly walked over the first little girl in the queue and threw the glass before her feet but it did not break. That was the uniqueness of Luyota's glass of choice. A normal glass has to break if it falls to the ground but that was never the case with the ancient glass of choice. It only disintegrated before the feet belo

“No—no, no—Erevan—something’s wrong—something’s wrong—” He grabbed her hands, forcing their palms together. His shadows wrapped around their skin, trying to anchor her—but they slipped through her light like water through fingers. Her heart hammered painfully. “Erevan—help me—my light—my magic—it’s—” He pulled her against him, voice raw with terror. “It’s not you,” he said fiercely. “It’s the throne.” Aria’s vision blurred. Her light continued unraveling. Thread by thread. Erevan looked up at the throne—voice cracking with rage.

The door wasn't locked, surprising and careless - Rhea noted. The room had been arranged perfectly but there was a lot of dust and it was easy to spot where there wasn't dust anymore. Something told her that it was where Lyra had just searched and as she went closer, the fingerprints told her she was right. She picked the book up, reading the cover out loud with surprise. “The descendants of the throne, the determinants of the next in line" it said, boldly written on the cover.

“Your Grace, the Covenant of Binding is ancient and—” “Do it,” the Queen Mother ordered coldly, her gaze sharp as a blade. “Let this woman prove her words.” Uriel sighed, stepping forward. He took the potion from the Queen Mother’s hand and began chanting softly, his palms glowing faintly with runes of light. The air thickened with magic as the spell began to form. Then he handed the potion to Althea.

But it was Elara… It was Elara who walked into the heart of the fortress alone. The Throne of Nightglass sat untouched at the center of Kaer Nyx. No ruler had sat upon it since the last eclipse of the First Age. Its surface reflected not light, but truth—twisted, ancient, raw. When Elara approached, the flames behind her eyes flared. She sat. The stone did not burn her. It recognized her. And in that moment, every torch in the fortress lit with silver flame. Later, at the high table carved into the summit ledge, the final council met.

The key slid inside easily with a metallic groan. Beyond the gate, the air changed. Heavier. Charged. Shelves warped with age, scrolls bound in wolf hide, tomes inked in ancient bloodline dialects. There was something dark that pulled her inside. Her fingers trembled as she scanned the shelves until one title pulsed in the low firelight. "Prophecies of the Shattered Thrones." She opened it carefully. The parchment crackled. And there it was. A single passage written in red... "When the flame returns, crowned or chained, she shall awaken the power of her bloodline and bring the tyrant to his knees. She who bears the mark shall bind or break the cursed throne."

“The Hollow Throne must be sealed.” Then came the vision. Scene 1: The Throne of Silence In her mind’s eye, Iris stood before a vast, silent chamber. At its center was a throne of black stone and bone, suspended above a pool of still, silver water. Mist curled around it. Time seemed irrelevant here. And on that throne— A child. Her son. But his eyes… they were voids, swirling pools of unfeeling black. Shadows coiled at his feet, reaching toward the water like tendrils of fate. The glow of the moon haloed his crown, but it could not penetrate the darkness clinging to him.

The creature lunged. Chaos erupted. Elior’s blade met shadow, sparks flying as the creature absorbed the blow. Bram swung his axe, but it passed through as if cutting through mist. Myrra’s daggers struck true, yet the wounds sealed as quickly as they formed. Then its gaze locked onto Rael. A surge of heat exploded through him as the book’s pages flared to life, the ink twisting, forming words that burned into his vision: SPEAK AND CLAIM. Rael’s voice shook as he forced the words past his lips. “The Hollow Throne does not grant power. It takes.”