Throne Of Glass Memes 소설 & 이야기

North patted her hand quickly to share her joy. “Milo, as in the bloody second prince to the Haedran throne?” Thorne thundered the words, and his face was so red it looked like he might explode in flame for a moment. “I won’t have it. You’re through with him. Do you hear me?” He shouted the question.

--The Nydisian Kingdom, Eraregord, Royal Academy-- "Dane, comprise a list of your best students and have them submit their names to be before tomorrow at noon," Lucian ordered as he took a seat in the headmaster's study. Dane was a tall yet lean man with olive skin tone and piercing red eyes, the colour eyes most vampires seemed to have. "Consider it done, Milord. Do you still wish to hold the tournament?" The headmaster, Dane, asked. His Highness had sent word to him a few days ago that he'd be arriving in a week's time to gather the academy's best as well as strongest fighters.

Instead, the glass showed him standing behind me, hands on my shoulders, mouth at my throat. My scales flared so hard the room’s temperature jumped ten degrees. The image vanished. Thorne’s jaw clenched. “That thing’s banned for a reason.” “Yet it’s still here,” Li chirped. “Headmistress has a sense of humor.” Another knock, softer this time. Jax leaned in, shirt half-unbuttoned, golden skin still steaming from whatever fire spell he’d been practicing. He took in the scene (me glowing, Thorne glowering, Li eating metaphorical popcorn) and whistled low.

I screamed. The mirror cracked. “You lived it,” she said. “Even when I was meant to.” Cracks spread wider. Shards began to fall, and as they did, each caught a memory. Me smiling with Rafael. Me holding my child. Me howling under the full moon, no longer broken. And then I saw something else something I didn’t recognize. A throne, but not of gold or crystal. It was bone and ash, forged by blood and sacrifice.

The mortar that bound the stones carried flecks of battlefield ash, a silent promise that their sacrifice would never be forgotten. Where the legendary Nightglass Throne once loomed, an obsidian seat carved to resemble a crown of icicles, now stood a simpler chair: fashioned from blackened moonwood and braided phoenix feathers, veins of gold running through its curves. It neither towered nor dazzled. It waited.

The Lunacrown Thistle. It glows faintly silver, delicate petals crowned with spines tipped in violet. I take one step forward. And the desert blinks then instantly, I am no longer standing in the grove. I am in a throne room made of obsidian and starlight. Massive pillars rise around me, etched in symbols I have seen only once, in Inferno’s memories. At the foot of the throne, wolves kneel. Dozens. Hundreds. A crown rests in my hand. My hand!

How could I possibly accept it? I waved frantically, saying, "I can't take it, Your Highness. It's far too valuable!" Gideon was confused by my reaction. "Is it too cheap for you?" I shook my head vigorously, knowing he'd misunderstood me. I explained, "The late empress gave this to you, and it's been with you through life and death. I wouldn't dare accept something so priceless."

Devon POV: Slumping on my seat in my office, I sighed deeply. This was the first time in the thousands of years I've lived that I'd think about someone so much. The most annoying thing was that my thoughts weren't occupied by a female, but a male at that! " I'm homophobic, for goodness’ sake!” I yelled and smashed the wine filled glass I was formerly twirling. I ran my fingers through my hair, praying to the goddess that he'd leave my thought, but soon got interrupted when the door was slammed open.

I whisper to Owen. Beneath the “werewolves” column, she neatly prints, “Owen and Ella: Reproductive Spell.” Changing from her black marker to a red one, she makes a bullet point below it: “Ella = Tyr” and “Owen = Fenrir” “We know enough about the spell that we understand the symbolism,” she says, moving to the next column. She notes there that thralls cast the spell on us. Then, under “unknown,” she writes “moonstone.”

“Dress up, both of you and wear your armour. I will touch you with my hands and add to your powers.” “Yes, my Queen.” Ronan nodded and as he tried to signal to Mary to see her dress, which she'd been looking for, I heard a bang from the rear and literally, before my eyes, the glass windows broke into pieces.