Throne Of Glass Main Character Novels & Stories

“The last chance. If you ascend… you spark the final rebellion. If you fall… everything ends in fire.” My stomach dropped. Kael moved closer, his arm brushing mine. “Why now? Why show yourself?” The man’s eyes burned brighter. “Because the throne called me. And because she stirs again.” “She?” I whispered. The shadows shifted. And I saw her. Behind him. A woman. Faint and flickering, like a ghost made of silver smoke. She wore a crown of thorns and a robe of stars. Her eyes were like mine—but filled with endless grief.

An old man, clad in tattered robes, stepping forward with slow, measured steps. He stopped a few paces away, his gaze settling on Elior. “I know you,” the man rasped. “You are the one who shattered the Throne.” The man’s name was Orris, one of the last survivors of Dawnfire. He had seen the sky break, had felt the change ripple through the land. “The First King built the Throne for a reason,” he said. “It was never just a seat of power. It was a cage.” A chill ran through Elior.

Order and chaos was their natural rhythm but tonight, even Liam had the decency to keep his mouth shut. The torches burned low, their light flickering against the bars of the final cell. There she sat, small, trembling, wrists bound, a bruise along her cheekbone from William’s earlier outburst the other day and eyes though swollen, tried to stay alert. The girl from the peace summit and the one who turned the Moon Stone white. I’d been replaying that moment in my mind for hours: the chaos, the blood, the impossible light. I had never seen anything like it since the death of the Goddess. But somehow, this scrawny orphan was the cause.

Chapter 9: THE THRONE AWAITS HER. The book felt warm when Hazel touched it. The west kingdom: a place of fire, control and purity. She carried it to a table by the window, piper trailing behind her. The leather was cracked. The pages smelled like ashes and basements. She read. It wasn't a story. But a record. Short entries. "Post-luna divide. The west kingdom remains ruled by Luna queens. Power passes mother to daughter. The mark of the moon's daughter in every chosen one. A crowned wolf in fire. Appears only when you reach 20.

The vines were quiet resting in the moonlight waiting for the season to start. I was not the Vane Heiress anymore. I was Hannah. As I walked towards the house with Stephen I knew that the "Tower of Glass" was gone for good. We had built something that would not break: a life based on the earth the water and the love that had set us both.

The obsidian throne groaned, the entire structure vibrating with a frequency that was neither Silas’s nor mine. It was hers. Silas recoiled, his hand smoking, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and rapture. "She... she’s rejecting the Command? No... she’s Rewriting it." "She’s a Vane," I gasped, finally finding my voice as the pressure eased. "And a Thorne. She doesn't follow instructions." I lunged, my wings slicing through the air with a platinum-black fire. I didn't go for Silas; I went for the Throne’s Core—the massive obsidian diamond at the center of the chamber.

“The Miller household has never been wealthy. Her father is only a minor royal archivist.” “And her stepmother manages the family now. If anything of her mother’s inheritance survived at all, we should consider it a miracle.” The crowd watched as the chests were carried past. “They hardly seem heavy.” “Of course they are not. Compare them with the Princess Hazel’s procession earlier today. One hundred and twenty chests, and the porters could barely lift them.” “Well, Hazel is the legitimate princess of the Northern Kingdom.” “And Ava Miller is merely a clerk’s daughter.” A few people laughed quietly.

Three blades crossed over a broken crown. The heirs. Three of them rode at the front. The first was a woman, tall and lean, with hair the color of fresh blood. Her eyes were violet, like Malric’s had been. Magic rolled off her in waves. Sera Dravok. The mage-heir. The second was a man, broad-shouldered, scarred from jaw to collarbone, holding a war-axe that looked too heavy for any normal man. His grin was feral. Kael’s cousin. Orin Dravok. The war-heir.

I had considered many possibilities. Enemies beyond the kingdom, Hunters searching for the girl. People who wanted to exploit whatever secret she carried. But betrayal from within… That possibility chilled me the most. If someone inside the kingdom had been feeding information to their enemies, then I couldn’t trust everyone around me. Not even those wearing royal colors. Ilooked toward the dark mountains. Somewhere beyond us was the girl. Somewhere beyond us was the truth and perhaps someone was already waiting for me. *** Far above the campsite, hidden among the cliffs, a shadow watched the fire below.

Neither of us notices the second-floor window below the balcony, or the figure standing just behind its glass, unmoving, watching the two of us long enough to see exactly where my hand had been and exactly how long she'd let it stay there. By the time I finally walk her back inside, the window is dark and empty again. I don't think anything of it. I have no reason to yet. But someone in this palace just learned something about the girl the court thinks is decorative and dull, and unlike Old Meret, this particular someone has never once needed coin or a carriage to make a person disappear