Throne Of Glass Fan Cast の小説・ストーリー

Male lead: Duncan Hiddleston: 10% - currently has a downward trend. 2. Female lead: Maris Jane: 0% - currently the level remains the same. 3. Female eight: Oriana Alice: 95% - currently tends to increase. 4. Male supporting character, odd: Theodore Mark: 150% - currently exceeds the set target. Please end the statistics table.] “So gruesome. I seem to like Theodore Mark a bit too much, don't I? How about the level of hate for each character?” [The host's anger towards each character

Why will I be the only Omega in a party that not even the Betas could attend? “Tyrion, can’t you do something?” He shook his head. “I can't since I won't be there—” I inhaled that scent again. This time, my wolf whimpered. I glanced around, hoping to sight anyone else except for Kisey and Cirilla that were discussing at the side…but I felt the presence of nobody again. As I raised my brows to look at Tyrion, our gaze met.

Then the wizard revealed the full truth, the tale that began it all, the secret that had shaped everything since the very beginning. Long ago, the Bloodthorn and Silverfang clans were not enemies. They were one, a powerful tribe known as the Moonstone Clan, led by Alpha Thorne and his beloved mate, Luna Seraphina. They ruled together with wisdom and strength. But their joy was incomplete. Seraphina bore many daughters, but no son to inherit Thorne’s title. The future of the pack’s leadership remained uncertain.

“Yeah, I guess,” “We talking about Mateball?” Kairos and Maximus snapped their heads up to look at the door to Kairos’s room. Lounging against the door frame was Thorne. His bleach blonde hair had been freshly washed and toned. It stood out against his deep olive skin. He wore thick black rimmed glasses over his honey-gold eyes. “Yeah,” Kairos said. “You going? You taking History of Wolves or The Last Great Queen this year?” “Har, har,” Thorne rolled his eyes. “I’m taking no one. Unlike you two, I’m trying to not piss off the Queen.”

When I finished, Maren rose without a word, crossed to a small chest tucked beneath the window, and brought out a mural rendered on cracked, ancient canvas. The same one she had shown me the day I arrived, though I hadn't seen the full picture in my exhausted state. It was a mural of warriors of every kind standing shoulder to shoulder beneath a blood-red moon: wolf, bear, Lycan, painted in old, careful detail, and at the very center, a woman with silver-white hair, her hand raised toward the sky. "Her name was Selene," Maren said quietly. "The last true Moon-Blood Seer this kingdom knew. I believe, though I can't prove it with anything but an old woman's instinct, that she is the piece of s

Her dark hair was swept up, pinned with a dagger-like ornament of obsidian. She didn't descend the stairs; she poured herself down them. The murmurs started instantly. "Is that the Thorne daughter?" "Why is she wearing red? Only the Royal Family wears vivid colors." "She looks... terrifying." Vespera reached the floor. She snapped her fan open. She scanned the room. To her left, the gaggle of debutantes. Among them, Elara Vance, wearing white, looking doe-eyed and fragile. In the last timeline, Vespera had pitied her. Now, she felt only the urge to step on her.

The atmosphere shifted when the Holy Circle arrived. Selene led the pack, presence a soft glowing irritation. Flanking her: Ivy Thornfield, looking like she'd sucked a lemon; Terrica, Earth Elven Princess with a gaze severe as a tectonic plate; Wren, Light Mage radiating manufactured purity; Amira, Nephilim Princess; and Rhysandra Nychus, lips finally normal but eyes still darting in panic. We retreated to changing stalls. I chose a sleek midnight-violet leotard with sheer mesh sleeves.

“It is with heavy hearts that we find ourselves gathered under these circumstances. As all of you know, as all of you have heard — tragedy has befallen the Realm. The King is no more.” “He is not dead.” The words almost came out but I caught them just in time, swallowed them back, kept my face neutral. “And because the throne cannot remain empty, we are gathered here today to crown Amber Crystabel Moon, daughter of Roland and Isabel Moon, heir to the throne, as Queen of the Realm.” My eyes were still scanning and the panic was rising even more with Roxanne’s coldness bleeding through the inside of my head. No Timothy. Witches were not allowed. No Jameson. Omegas were not allowed either and I

The golden and pearlescent fabric danced with every step, and the silver embroidery sparkled like constellations upon her skin. Her green eyes were deeper, more intense. Not because of the color, but because of the presence that inhabited them. Behind her came Carla, Lyra, and the three maids — Tânia, Ekaterina, and Lena — wearing simple cloaks, yet aligned with their roles as Guardians of the Goddess. The murmurs began like wind through leaves. “It is her…” “The one chosen by the moon…” “The daughter of Morrigan…” “The bearer of the new cycle…” But Susan remained unshaken.

Paul—or whoever he was—lay there with his throat opened up, eyes staring at the ceiling in a permanent state of shock. Words from my childhood rang in my head: They will find you later. Just stay low. Don’t do anything stupid. Fuck! They had found me. My past had caught up with me. Yes, I, Thalia Thorne, held a secret. I wasn’t human. I was born into the wrong part of the hierarchy. In the Great North, your eyes are your destiny. Gold eyes are Gemini—the royalty. Blue eyes are Capricorn—the servants. But then there are the ones like me. A dark-eyed cub with a cancer mark—an abomination. Black eyes. The ones who didn’t get to live.