Throne Of Glass In Order Novels & Stories

The crown hits the marble floor with a sharp clang just before my father’s body does. The hall erupts in screams. I want to shout, to rush over to him, but my voice sticks in my throat. All I can do is watch the blood pool beneath his throne, creeping toward me. The soldiers kneel, but not for the king—for her. Queen Lunice, my grandmother. “Long live the Queen,” they chant, their voices hollow and obedient. Her eyes meet mine. Those dark, ancient, endless eyes hold me in place across the years. “No male heir shall survive,” she whispers. “The curse has already begun.”

Inside, they found no statues, only memories frozen in time. In the center of the hall stood five thrones, each corresponding to an element. But there was a sixth throne—shattered and cold—at the very end. ThroneElementOriginal CustodianStatus The GlacialIce/OrderThe Queen of CalmElara's Template The SolarFire/WillThe King of CoreKael's Template The TideWater/LifeThe Abyssal LordTrench-King's Template The CrystalEarth/HarmonyThe Weaver of BondsZane's Template The GaleAir/OscillationThe Voice of the WindJulian's Template

Kaelith asked. "The Voidglass is in position." Eron gestured toward the center of the platform, where the fragments we had retrieved from the vault sat arranged in a careful pattern. They pulsed with faint purple light, responding to something I couldn't see. "The blood needs to be added in a specific order. Fae first, then dragon, Vaelth, Daevari, and wolf last." "Why wolf last?" "Because the wolf blood carries the Primordial's signature. It needs to complete the circle, to seal the connection." Eron's eyes met mine. "Once all five components are in place, the Voidglass will activate. That's when things get difficult."

And in a voice as old as the stars, she said: > “Then choose, flamechild. Sit the throne—or watch your twin take your place.” --- Silence. Theron trembled. Selene felt her heart split. And then— He turned. And walked away from the throne. “No,” he said. The realm trembled. The Queen laughed—once. And vanished in fire. --- The throne cracked. The girl disappeared like smoke. The realm pulsed once—twice— And began to collapse. --- Kael grabbed Selene’s hand. “Go!” They ran—Elira holding Theron’s hand, Rowan and Naeria shielding them with bursts of raw magic as the mirror realm crumbled behind them.

But it was Elara… It was Elara who walked into the heart of the fortress alone. The Throne of Nightglass sat untouched at the center of Kaer Nyx. No ruler had sat upon it since the last eclipse of the First Age. Its surface reflected not light, but truth—twisted, ancient, raw. When Elara approached, the flames behind her eyes flared. She sat. The stone did not burn her. It recognized her. And in that moment, every torch in the fortress lit with silver flame. Later, at the high table carved into the summit ledge, the final council met.

The chandelier above swung violently, though no wind stirred. The air grew heavy—thick with something old. A magic that wasn’t mine. A presence that filled the room like black smoke. Alika’s body lifted slightly off the settee, her hair rising as if underwater. Her lips moved— But it was Morrigan’s voice that came out. > “The vessel breaks, the bride awakens. This time, the throne shall not remain empty.” “No,” I said firmly, stepping forward. “She is not your throne.” I grabbed the silver blade again and slashed my palm, fresh blood spilling.

The First King’s sigil. She set it on the nearest table, flipping through pages until she found what she was looking for. “Here.” Elior stepped closer, the others gathering around as Myrra read aloud. “To break the Throne is to break the Balance. The Chains of the Veil will shatter, and the Dark One shall rise again.” Silence. Elior’s pulse quickened. The Dark One. He didn’t need to say it. They all knew the name Erythos.

Nonetheless, the bright full moon at the sky served enough to illuminate the grounds and other objects inside from the open windows. Likewise, the figure of a lady seated on an extravagant, intricately chiseled and decorated throne glows bright as two tall windows flash light on her like converging spotlights. The rear of her fingers altogether supported her tilted head while her other arm rests at her lap. Few meters away from her, a young man stands still, staring directly at her, awaiting the movement she will take. It is Tristan, that child she has been watching over since the first day of their meeting.

Her hair lifted in a wind that wasn’t there. Something moved in the glass. Not her. Not the room. Something just beyond the surface is leaning in. The same wrongness from her dorm. From the shadows that had thickened when she’d flared before. Something old. Patient. Watching. Her magic surged toward it like a tide. “No,” she gasped. She dropped to her knees. Pain ripped up her leg as she landed on the broken glass. Shard bit deep into her bare feet, into the skin beneath the robe’s hem. Warm wetness bloomed, soaking into the silk.