Throne Of Glass Celaena Novels & Stories

The scene vanished in a rush of wind and silence. In its place, the throne room, lit by torches, was painted in blood. Her hands were stained red. Kael’s body sprawled at her feet, eyes open but seeing nothing. “You could have chosen war,” Kael’s ghost said, voice flat. “You would have won.” She screamed. The scream echoed forever, slamming the door shut behind her. She opened the next door. Sirelia. Crowned in gold and black iron, chains coiled around her arms and neck. She sat atop a throne carved from the obsidian of broken promises, fragments of all the futures Elara had discarded.

the frost-haired woman said, “am Seris. Last Nexus before you. Oracle of the Blood Moon. I held the Moonstone when it nearly split from overuse.” Her eyes flicked to Luna’s brow. Her mouth curved, just short of a smirk. “You wear it better,” she said. Luna’s heart hammered harder. “Why are you here?” she asked, voice softer than she intended. Kaela’s gaze held hers, steady and kind. “Because the veil is thin,” she said. “Because you are newly crowned. Because power, when it shifts, stirs the dust of those who once held it. Because we have seen what happens when an Alpha walks this path alone.”

The entire ceiling to floor stained glass refracted colour lights into the room to lighten the atmosphere, but it only added to the finality of it. This was the last thing you would see before your life was yanked away from you and judgment was passed. Kael sat on the larger throne, looking like a king carved from ice with how stern his face was, while Elena sat beside him in a golden could that caught the light from the stained glass. Auy other day, I would admit that she looked pretty, but today? She looked like the spawn of the devil. The moment she saw me, her lips twitched for a second like she found the entire situation humourous, before she forced it and her face contorted into a mask

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.”

She turned to Ellaine just in time to see her eat the pearl in her necklace—the Hristoax. “Because, of all my lives, this is the only one where I came to meet Aunt Margarette and Finrod!” As Ellaine swallowed the Hristoax, her whole body glowed. She felt new energy flow in her veins empowering her. Her perplexed mind became instantly cleared and her senses were improved. “No!” Ánië tossed Finrod away. “You thief!” She attacked Ellaine who released a beam of light, hurling her couple of feet away. Ellaine stared at her hands, taken aback. She is a witch. From the human pillar? But she already met Alderon, the human wizard.

*** * opens eyes* Celea was heavy breathing and had a sharp pain in her neck " Damn you lycan" she than looked up with a sharp face " no one is going to die, not on my watch" Celea went out of the room " Luna!" " you cant be outside is dangerous!" Celea than pushed him away with her powers and he flew 4 meter away. Celea went to a giant painting not to far away from here and took it down. Hidden on the back of the painting were two swords she had hidden sometime ago along with other swords everywhere in the palace for situation like this

"You promised me you would never let them use him." The memory vanished. Kael fell against the throne. His hands shook. "I remember..." Selene stared at him. "What?" Kael looked at Caelan. "You weren't watching my coronation." Caelan said nothing. "You were watching her." The woman in white closed her eyes. And Caelan whispered: "I failed her." The Door Beneath the Throne The broken crown suddenly began to glow. Golden dust lifted from the marble floor. Every particle rose into the air and gathered beneath the restored throne.

"If the girl is of royal blood, the glass will hold. If she is a pretender, the glass will vanish." Morgana stood next to him, a cruel smile on her lips. She leaned over and whispered as I passed her. "Goodbye, little weaver. I hope the shards are sharp." I looked at the start of the bridge. My legs felt like jelly. “Walk,” Alaric’s voice commanded in my head. He was sitting on the throne at the other end of the bridge. He looked powerful, but I could feel his hand gripping the armrest so hard the wood was cracking.

“Although she clearly likes Estelle more, she's conflicted by her current situation where she has no choice.” “I'm almost done with the first book, but I have nothing on the identity of Lady Estelle yet. She's sort of an anonymous person with so much power.” Hyacinth said, parting her legs as my hand traced up. “Kael… I'm sore.” She moaned with a hitched breath as my fingers travelled to her erogenous zone. “Yet, you open your legs.” I whispered against her ears. “If you want me to stop, I will.” I slightly pulled my hand back.

I wasn't the nerve system of ten thousand; I was just a woman, held by a man who had walked through his own hell to find me. "I will be your mirror," Kaelen whispered. "Whenever you feel the ice, look at me. I will show you the woman who pulled me out of the obsidian. I will show you the Queen who gave the unwanted their souls back. If you are a monster, Elara, then I am the beast that serves you. And I have never been more proud of my chains." I closed my eyes, letting his warmth flow into me. The blue lines in my palms didn't vanish, but they stopped glowing. The numbness receded, replaced by the familiar, stinging heat of the Hallowed fire.