The Glass Wall Book Novels & Stories

He says it rejuvenates him, but not today. I always loved Luna’s chamber. The room’s lighting is perfect; it is not so bright, but it is not so dark either. The eastern and northern walls of the room are made of one-way, floor-to-ceiling, thick glass; at least, that’s how it looks from the inside. Luna prefers natural light when she reads her books and enjoys watching the training ground from her chamber. The walls appear like thick brick from the outside, and there is no way an outsider can see through the nonexistent glass. Honestly, I don’t know how they did it. Perhaps it involves magic or state-of-the-art technology; only the goddess knows.

Something sharper. The wall at the end of the alley fractured like glass struck by a hammer. A jagged line raced across brick and metal, shimmering in neon light. For a moment, Mara thought the building was going to collapse — but instead, the crack revealed something impossible. Beyond it was not brick or rebar but another street entirely. A perfect mirror of the one they stood in, only upside down. Rain fell upward. Cars floated like balloons, their headlights glowing in reverse. And there, walking calmly down the inverted sidewalk, was a woman with glowing eyes.

This is what I can tell you about what the glass is. It is not absence. People think it is absence — a switching off, a going away. It is not that. You are still there. You register everything. The weight, the cold of the sheets, the sound of the garden outside continuing its complete indifference. You register the specific quality of him — the unhurried thoroughness of a man who has decided something belongs to him and sees no reason to pretend otherwise. You register all of it. What the glass does is hold it at a distance that makes it survivable. Like looking at something very bright through smoked glass — you see it, you know what it is, you do not let it burn you. You file it. You note

Brielle swallows hard beside me, and I squeeze her hand just as Jack walks back in with a huge smile on his face. “I think we just got lucky,” he tells us. “My buddy just told me that entire wall was constructed using riot glass.” “Riot glass?” Brielle asks. “What does that mean? Like hurricane glass?” “No, riot glass is even better,” I say. “Hurricane glass is only rated for high winds. Riot glass is designed specifically to withstand objects hitting it – even something traveling at a high rate of speed.” “Like bullets?” “Yep. The glass will spiderweb, but not shatter.”

He hadn’t told her he was coming. He didn’t know if he should. But when he saw her silhouette appear behind the glass, his chest tightened. She looked smaller than before. And stronger. Vivienne noticed him a moment later. Their eyes met through the glass. She pressed her hand against the window. So did he. Separated by inches of reinforced steel and years of manipulation, they stood there, breathing the same city air, sharing the same silence. Her phone buzzed. Vivienne: You shouldn’t be here.

And when the SUV entered the mansion, their faces were even more astonished. “My goodness, Ara! This is a glass mansion! What the hell?” Elizha was shocked when she got off the car. “This is my master’s house, Eli. Not mine.” But again, Elizha didn't believe her. The mansion's walls are made of two-way mirror fiberglass. Nobody can see the inside from the outside, but everyone on the inside can see the outside.

The other wall was made entirely of glass and looked down at the busy street outside. At the end of the room, on the wall of bookshelves, sat a wide, well-polished mahogany desk with three empty swivel chairs across from each other. And close to the glass wall, a woman sat on one of the couches and regarded us. Esther stepped forward and spoke to the woman in hushed whispers. She turned to me when she was done, winked at me, and was gone. My heart hammered in my chest as I faced the woman. Anxiously, I gulped saliva down my throat. The woman said nothing to me. She merely rose to her feet and strode towards the door. I rushed after her, presuming this was what she wanted.

He finds me on the second floor in the same glass-walled study room where he first put his mouth on me months ago, except that the girl who sat on that table trying to smile at a passing student while her stepbrother’s tongue was inside her has been replaced by a woman who doesn’t even pretend to resist when Knox clears the desk with one arm and bends her over it face-first with her cheek pressed against the glass and twelve students visible at the tables below. I should push him off and remind him that this room is GLASS and that anyone on the main floor who tilts their head upward by fifteen degrees will see my face pressed against the window with an expression that cannot be mistaken for

He needed to feel the earth. He walked out onto the terrace. The mist was rising. The valley was laid out in greens and browns. He could see the olive grove shining. That was the thing that would not burn. You can burn a house you can burn a book. The land remains. It waits. It takes the ash. Turns it into something Even as he looked at the scene he felt the world outside moving. The Tower of Glass was falling. In Nairobi glass was breaking sirens were sounding. People were running. The shards were coming. Some of them were coming here.

It happened before Anzi had even the slightest chance to react. Not only Kai’s sudden, brutal assault on Tet, but what happened next, too—the explosion of the translucent, swirled dragon glass that made up the top half of the far wall looking out over the city. And as countless shards showered over the entirety of the great domed hall with a piercing, shattered cacophony, the dim sky darkened, far more quickly than any sunset could cause.