Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #0.1–0.5, 1–7)

by Sarah J. Maas

It was agony and despair and fear. It was joy and laughter and rest. It was life, all of it, and as that darkness lunged for Chaol and Yrene, he did not fear it. He only looked toward the dark and smiled. Not broken. Made anew. And when the darkness beheld him … Chaol slid a hand against its cheek. Kissed its brow. It loosened its grip and tumbled back into that pit. Curled up on that rocky floor and quietly, carefully, watched him. He had the sense of rising up, of being sucked through a too-thin door. Yrene grasped him, hauling him along with her. She did not let go. Did not falter. She speared them upward, a star racing into the night. White light slammed into them— No. Daylight. He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness. The first thing he felt was nothing. No pain. No numbness. No ache or exhaustion. Gone. His legs were … He moved one. It flowed and shifted without a flicker of pain or tension. Smooth as butter. He looked to the right, to where Yrene always sat. She was simply smiling down at him.