Throne Of Glass Age Rating の小説・ストーリー

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.”

Lucian responded, as they approached the grand hall, the guards pushed open the door in their wake, and with a short polite nod of the head to Advisor Daniel, they began to discuss. "As you both already know the rule of cardinal has chosen a queen bearing the name Katherina Daventin. She is fairly young, 17 summers old I believe, and she needs to be trained in the way of a queen," Daniel stepped forth towards Lucian indicating that it was his duty. "General Williams, now that you're here the throne will be presented to you until the queen is deemed ready, as you see fit, an official decree will be passed out in the morning. Until then all hail the King!" The advisor spoke with faith not want

The screen in front of her glowed faintly in the dark room. He crossed the room slowly. “What's that?” Rosana didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. Her cheeks were stained with tears. Sergio looked at the screen and cursed. A flickering video. A house in flames. Children screaming. Smoke curling from shattered windows. Figures running in the chaos. Then—her. A little girl, no older than five, standing beside a woman—her mother—clutching her hands and sobbing. The camera shook.

Untouchable. A chime sounded. The Thorneblood Matriarch rose from her seat. She was ancient. Not in the way Agatha was ancient—this was something else. Something that had stopped aging before human civilization learned to write. Her skin was smooth and pale as moonlight. Her hair was silver threaded with living flowers. Her eyes were the color of deep forest shadows. She wore a gown of woven vines that bloomed and withered and bloomed again as she breathed.

The soldiers of Cloud city,fell on their knees, their right hands on their chest as soon as the queen approaches. Zoire walks majestically,as the trail of her gown seems to move endlessly at her back.The gown is made with pure gold, with the breast plate designed with a bronze metal, that pressed her breast tightly to her chest. A liquid silk, covering her shoulders to the wrist of her hands. Her gray hairs, were graciously tucked in behind her ears,down to her waist.Leaving some strands of hairs dangling in front of her face.Her hairs seems to glitter in silver,as the rays of the sun shine on them.

she continues. For werewolves, you don’t find your mate until you turn eighteen. If the male turns eighteen first, he might feel the connection before the female does. Males can either wait to tell the female when she comes of age, or they can mark her early—but waiting until she’s eighteen is more respectful. “I can totally see you two together,” Tara says. I glance at her, smirking with bright, happy eyes. “We’ve been friends forever… do you think he’ll tell me if I am?” I ask. She shrugs.

All eyes fall on me, questioning my sudden outburst. "I won't let you turn me" Thorne laughs "You say that, like you have a choice. What you wish to be human?" He scoffs. "I will not be turned by you, without my queens mark to strengthen me and protect against you" He takes a step towards me, but I take one step back "I will not be with a human" Arlo comes to my side and strokes my arm "It's all good Queenie, I will turn you" My eyes narrow at Arlo. "You can't turn anyone. You are not a pureblood or a Queen"

I stumbled toward it, desperate for open space and light and… Pain exploded through my chest. I gasped and fell to my knees, clutching at my sternum. It felt like something was trying to claw its way out from inside me. My wolf. She was thrashing against the curse, harder than ever before. No, not now, I thought desperately. I can’t handle this now. But she wasn’t listening. She was furious, terrified, desperate. The curse had held her for eighteen years, and she was done waiting. Silver light began to emanate from my skin, just like it had during the rogue attack. But this time it didn’t stop. It grew brighter, more intense, until I was sure I was burning from the inside out.

"Providing a werewolf has found their mate and they have fully mated with them, they will stop ageing at around thirty-five. We can live for hundreds of years and die peacefully-" "This is fascinating and everything but what's it got to do with my family?" I sighed. I was fed up now and he was only serving to make the situation worse. "My real age is forty-seven and I stopped ageing when I was thirty. I have always known who you really were. Eldest daughter of Maxwell and Janette Clarkson. Next in line for the throne after your brother, Kyros, turned it down and favourite child of your father. James' parents, Jacob and-"

And now, watching her stand there, he didn’t know if he would survive watching her choose someone else twice in one lifetime. The glass went before he could finish being certain. Raiyan's wine glass didn't just shatter; it surrendered. The stem snapped under the pressure. The sound was a miniature gunshot over the birthday music. Sam was there in a second. "Man—" "I'm fine," Raiyan said. His voice was a masterpiece of deception. Blood began to pool in his palm, dripping off the edge of the table and landing on the expensive carpet with a rhythmic, heavy thud. Zoya turned to look at him, her eyes found him immediately.