By N. D. Wilson
"A must-read series." —The Washington Post
When Henry York chanced on ninety nine cabinets hidden in the back of his bed room wall, he by no means dreamed they have been doorways to thoroughly new worlds. Exploring them along with his cousin Henrietta was once all of the motion and experience an overprotected boy may think. yet Henry's discovery additionally published the timeless witch Nimiane, whose starvation for strength may well wreck each global hooked up to the cupboards—and all people whom Henry loves. Now Henry needs to search out the mythical Chestnut King to reply to the unanswerable: How do you kill anyone who can't die?
With The Chestnut King, N. D. Wilson concludes a awesome, worlds-spanning trilogy that started with one boy and a hundred avenues to event.
Read Online or Download The Chestnut King (100 Cupboards Book 3) (The 100 Cupboards) PDF
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Additional resources for The Chestnut King (100 Cupboards Book 3) (The 100 Cupboards)
The field was once decreased into the road, and dirt swirled slowly clear of it. The 8 fingerlings picked up a guy, and as they decreased him into the field, Henry observed his face. Henry had no mouth to yell, no physique to take advantage of in a struggle. after which he did. He stepped out of the wall, able to kill, able to be killed. The fingerlings checked out him, and the realm went black. Pauper son, a delicate voice stated. you are going to input my goals? you will brush your bitter mortal soul opposed to my immortal essence? Henry observed not anything. He sensed not anything however the voice. after which he used to be in ache. I had concept to save lots of you for final, the voice acknowledged. to attend till your father used to be ash in my arms, yet you die now, pauper son, dream-walker, doggy to mongrels. You die now. Henry struggled, yet he had no palms to flail. A flash of gold spun in entrance of him, a residing be aware, a defiant struggle cry, a weed. It twisted with eco-friendly. i will be able to see, Henry concept. after which he heard, now not the witch’s voice, no longer her anger or her deathly bitterness, he heard the dandelion’s burning song—a track of lifestyles, of laughter and dying and lifestyles back, of wind and rain and solar, of ash and delivery, of triumph and tragedy and victory in each defeat. He watched and he heard and he ached, no longer with a actual soreness yet with wish, with a longing for every thing the dandelion was once, for every little thing it promised. Henry and the witch jointly watched the hearth that guarded his soul, where the place a weed had taken root. Thick grey threads, palms, serpentine beams wrapped round the dandelion hearth; they wrapped and shrunk and smothered the burning weed track. whereas Henry watched, the dandelion died. the golf green went grey and joined the strands. The golden hearth slowed and stopped and drifted away in ash. Grief, overwhelming loss, surged ice-cold over Henry as he watched the ash settle onto the witch’s grey rot. yet then, whereas he watched, each one spot greened the place it landed. 100 crops spun themselves leaves and burst into fiery bloom. Henry laughed, and the nice, grinding demise fought the noise and the warmth and the lifestyles. A flower had turn into a choir, a flame had turn into a blaze. As extra have been killed, extra bloomed, and unexpectedly, the grey serpents have been long gone. Henry, bodiless Henry, watched a unmarried, slowly twisting flower say its identify, and that identify was once a poem, and that poem used to be the historical past of the world—of all of the worlds. The dream was once his back. “Nimiane,” Henry stated. might the witch listen his mind’s phrases? Had she long past? The phrases of his christening, spoken via his grandmother, flooded again to him. “I will likely be your curse. ” A queen, a witch, rose from her mattress among the timber and accumulated up a cat in her fingers. She used to be feeling anything new. was once this worry? No. This used to be … urgency. The boy couldn't be allowed to develop. She walked into an oval clearing and gone through it. She walked beside a black pool and its fountain. It was once time to start larger issues. The fingerlings might deliver her Mordecai, or he could convey himself, pursuing the bait of his kin. The witch smiled. She seemed ahead to assembly his spouse.