Throne Of Glass Release Order Novels & Stories

I stood in the wreckage, chest heaving, claws dripping red. The door opened again. Blackthorn wolves flooded in. Their eyes locked on me, on the shadows still curling off my skin, on the glow still burning in my eyes. At the front stood Elder Cyril. His face was stone, his voice as sharp as the blade he carried. “The House of Glass cannot stand with a curse inside its walls. Either the curse is purged… or Blackthorn shatters tonight.” Kael stepped forward, his sword still bloody. “She’s not a curse. She’s mine.”

And from every corner of the throne room, the shadows began to retreat. A howl pierced the sky—not mine. Not Orion’s. But familiar. “Juno…” I breathed. The rest of the Wild Hunt Pack had found us. Tséyaa’s face twisted with fury. “This is not the end.” “No,” I said, rising, Thane supported beside me. “This is the beginning.” Silver fire burst from my chest, sweeping across the throne room in a tidal wave of radiant force. The illusion shattered. The witches screamed. The garden wilted. The palace of bone crumbled into ash.

The blade shimmered in the moonlight. “I’ll do it with my blood.” With one swift cut, I dragged the blade across my palm. Pain flared — but it was grounding. The blood hit the soil below, dark and sacred. “A blood oath,” I whispered. “To the throne – To the future – To vengeance.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- By morning, the estate had changed. Orders were dispatched. Armies repositioned. Hidden alliances activated. And I? I wore white. Not for peace. But for war. A visual funeral for the girl I once was.

The maid quarters were a beautiful representation of the kingdom of Ghandor. In the early morning, a cold air blew back and forth, causing shivers. Multiple groups of men practice swordplay, as usual, with distant metal striking metal. He remembered the maidens and the over ten contenders who are getting ready for the second round, battling for His affection. Prince Kohl reached out of his bed, glanced out the window, and heard a silent whisper, a voice echoing,'she is the queen of the iron throne'. He looked around his bedroom and wondered whether he was having a hallucination. 'No, this is real,' he exclaimed.

Every major kingdom had been summoned to the Summit of the Twelve Alphas … the first gathering since my awakening had shaken the world. Cassian read the guest list aloud, steady, until his jaw locked around one name. “Blackthorn Kingdom.” Silence. Every eye in the room found me. I smiled instead of flinching … slow, calm, a little dangerous, even to my own ears. “Good. I’m tired of hiding.” ⸻ They opened the treasury that afternoon and drew the Moon Crown out from beneath centuries of sealed magic … a crown that had rejected every ruler who’d dared reach for it, its silver surface cold enough to fog the glass case around it.

ONE “Keep reading, Athena.” Alpha James gestured to his daughter, his voice laced with sadness. “...The Nightshade Pack hereby surrenders to the Silver Moon Pack, as of today. Renouncing all claims to our territory.” Athena paused, her brows furrowing and her jaw clenching in anger. “We also submit our titles, including those of Alpha…and Alpha heir…” She choked on her words, swallowing hard as she fought back tears.

"They need a real Queen. Someone stunning. Someone with elite education and perfect pack pedigree. When they see you, they will toss that pathetic human straight into the streets. You are going to rule this pack, Clara." "Well, when you put it like that," she laughed lightly, clearly enjoying the idea. "I suppose I should wear the red dress you bought me." "Wear the red one," he agreed. "Get some sleep on the flight. I will see you tomorrow." Hanging up the phone, Thorne tossed it onto the seat next to him. He felt incredibly smug. While the rest of the council was panicking over dead guards and old women's prophecies, he was quietly positioning his own bloodline for the throne.

I turned my head, my piercing silver eyes locking onto the elite Vanguard guards who were standing on the sidelines, caught right in the middle of the mutiny. "Listen to me, warriors of the Vanguard!" I shouted, projecting my voice so every single wolf in the courtyard could hear their Queen. "Look at the crest on your armor! Look at the oath you swore! You signed a binding, magical alliance with the Blood Moon Pack! Under the strict, legal terms of the royal contract, until Alpha Kaelen Blackwood is officially confirmed dead by the high council, my signature holds this throne! My orders supersede Thorne's!" The elite guards visibly recoiled.

The stained glass of the St. Aubrey cathedral flooded the entire interior and pew in bright red and golden light giving space an ethereal feel. Everyone was silent as they waited listened in anticipation to the priest officiate the marriage. Rosana Marcello stood quietly before the altar, a picture of poised perfection. Her wedding dress fanned out around her from the waist down. Her fingers gripped the bouquets with perfectly still hands but deep within her, she was trembling, trying really hard to calm her nerves. She was quite sure the pounding of her heart was almost as loud as the cathedral bells though thankfully no one seem to be paying her any attention.

The great audience hall buzzed with restrained tension as the neutral houses arrived under heavy escort. Sunlight streamed through the high stained-glass windows, painting the marble floors in shards of crimson and silver. Banners of the Draven wolf hung solemnly from the rafters, a silent reminder of who still held the throne—for now.