Novel & Cerita Throne Of Glass Fanfic

“Is that what this has all been about? You disrupted my wedding and kidnapped me, bringing me here so you could feel important and rub it in my face that you killed my family.” Sergio didn’t speak. “You let me believe I was nothing. Then you chained me to your side, gave me knives, maps, riddles... like I was a pawn in some twisted game.” He finally stepped forward. “You are simply here as payment for a debt owed to my family... You were never a pawn I chose.” “Then what am I?” she asked bitterly. He looked at her sadly. “You're the queen that was never meant to rise.” ************************************************** Suddenly, the manor’s alarm pierced the quiet.

Edwina, my best friend who I have known since we were little girls baked me a cake and sewed me a gorgeous dress for the full moon bonfire party that is happening this Friday. Maria wrote me a beautiful poem and Nina gave me a haircut she claimed would make me more beautiful for Rand, maybe it would aid in taking our relationship to the next level, she said with a lewd wink that made me blush. Rand Thor, the Alpha-Heir of the Crescent moon Clan and my fated mate.

∞∞∞ The throne room still stank of ash and blood. Once a jewel of architecture, the high-arched ceiling now bore soot scars from dragonfire. Half the stained glass had melted, leaving jagged holes where sunlight poured in without mercy. The dais had been stripped bare; her father’s throne replaced with nothing but a carved obsidian slab. And he sat atop it like he had always belonged there. The Dragon Warlord. He didn’t wear a crown. He was one.

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.

Damian’s name fell from my lips in desperation, though the fire drowned the sound. The chamber shuddered with the glyph’s hunger, stones cracking along the walls, and dust rained from the ceiling. My magic, once so still and uncertain, roared like a beast awakening, fueled by the forced bond. I felt Thorne’s power bleed into mine, a mingling that tasted like smoke and steel. His eyes burned with satisfaction, but I tasted terror beneath his triumph.

The storm parted just enough to let him pass, ash sticking to his boots, wind yanking at his cloak like it wanted to pull him back. No one stopped him. No one saw him. Because even the Dustborn guards had learned, in the end, that there were ghosts not worth facing. Inside, the throne chamber pulsed with a glassy chill. No banners.No sigils. Only cold. And memory. And Sirelia. She sat not on a throne of bone, but of glass, fractured, spiraled, webbed like the shell of something ancient that had tried once to fly. The antler crown she wore had grown.Its tips scraped the stormlight above her.

He shuddered, laughed-a high, broken sound-and slammed it against the table so hard the glass cracked. His right-hand man flinched but didn't move. Haspan leaned forward, eyes burning through the haze of smoke, his smile terrible. "Elowyn Froste is mine. She is the cursebreaker. And when I drink her, boy-" his words slurred into a growl, "there will be nothing left in this world strong enough to deny me." ★★★ ★★★ Elowyn smoothed her hair back, forcing the tightness in her chest to loosen. By the time she reached Riven, her lips had curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Grave Groaning, I pulled the blonde closer, thrusting harder while she moaned beneath me, nails dragging down my chest. Her legs trembled around my waist, but it wasn’t enough. None of it was enough. Because she wasn’t her. Every damn time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Lyra Cross. Her mouth. Her attitude. Those dangerous fucking eyes. I knew we were playing a reckless game, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more. The girl was poison and danger, and it intrigued me. It’s only natural I love danger.

On our seventh mating anniversary, my Alpha mate, Ronan Thorne, abandons me once again for his secretary, Evelyn Stone's sake. This time, I don't kick up a fuss at all. Instead, I calmly draw out a silver dagger in hopes of ending my life. The moment the tip of the dagger is pressed against my neck, I feel someone grab my wrist all of a sudden. "Why are you hurting yourself? Who broke your heart?" I looked up in a daze, only to see the 18-year-old version of Ronan.