The kneeling statues held their pose, unmoving, as if awaiting a signal. Kael stepped between them, each footfall echoing off the marble that had not felt life in an age.
Nareus whispered, "Why kneel? They called him 'oath-breaker.'"
Elira's eyes shimmered faintly with mirrored magic. "They recognize the curse in him. But they also see what it could become."
Kael didn't reply. The words "into the throne" coiled in his mind like a warning—or a promise.
They reached the center of the city—a great amphitheater sunken into the ground. Stairs spiraled downward into shadow, and at its heart stood a spire of obsidian rising like a fang.
A single door lay at the base, sealed in silver and black. Upon it, the mark Kael bore burned bright—an exact replica etched in metal.
"This is it," Kael murmured.
Elira frowned. "You're sure?"
"No," he said. "But it's calling me."
The spire pulsed once, a low, droning hum like a heartbeat in stone.
Selene stepped beside him. "What lies beyond?"
Nareus spoke, voice trembling. "A library. A prison. A tomb. The First Seat."
Kael pressed his palm to the seal. His mark bled light into it.
The door opened.
Dust and shadow spilled out. The air was colder than ice.
They stepped inside.
The chamber stretched wider than it should—walls lined with tomes wrapped in chain, paintings of monarchs with hollow eyes, relics humming with restrained power.
At the far end, a throne of pale metal sat empty.
And before it, bound in silver cords and chains of memory, a figure knelt.
A woman.
Eyes closed. Pale hair trailing like silk.
Kael stepped closer—stopped.
He knew her.
Didn't he?
"Who is she?" Elira asked.
The figure stirred.
Eyes opened—mirror-like, ancient.
She spoke.
"Welcome, Kael. I've waited many lives for you."
---
End of Chapter 26
The heart of Vael'Aran reveals a prisoner older than empires—one who knows Kael's name, and perhaps once knew him. As memory, fate, and curse entwine, truths long buried begin to surface.