Chapter 13: The Mirror of the King
Theme: Destiny vs. Choice / Identity and Reflection
The Hollowed King stood alone before the Gate of Origins, robed in the twilight of the Crossroads. His presence seemed to ripple the stones, as if reality itself bowed before him.
Kael froze. The figure ahead looked too much like him. Not merely similar—identical, as if time had turned in on itself.
"I was you," the Hollowed King said, his voice as soft as the wind through dead trees. "And you, in time, will be me."
Seraeth stepped forward, drawing her blade. "Lies."
He didn't flinch. "Truth is a blade that cuts in silence."
Kael took a step forward, the shards humming like awakened serpents.
"Why show me this now?" Kael asked. "Why not stop me before I reached the Crownshard?"
"Because you had to know. To choose. Power given is power wasted. Power earned... shapes worlds."
The Hollowed King turned, his face grave. "I did what I did to spare the world from the deeper ruin that sleeps beneath it. But I failed. I fought the truth, locked it in stone and flame and memory. And still it came back—you came back."
Kael clenched his fists. "You want me to become you."
"I want you to understand. So you can choose better."
---
The Gate behind the Hollowed King shimmered. It pulsed like a heartbeat, ancient and slow. Runes etched in light circled its frame, spelling words in the first tongue: Here lies the Seed of the World. Here lies the End.
Vaelen whispered, "It's real. The Gate to the Heart. The place where magic was born."
The Hollowed King nodded. "It is also where it dies."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You speak in riddles."
"No. In warnings. The shards were never meant to be gathered. Their unity awakens what should have slept forever."
"What?" Kael asked.
The Hollowed King raised a hand—and the air shimmered.
A vision unfolded between them.
The sky tore open.
Something vast and formless crawled from the void. A being of shadow and flame, with no face, only a crown of bleeding stars. It walked across kingdoms, and where it walked, cities withered.
"The Heart of Aetherion," the Hollowed King said. "Not a place. A will. One that fed the world magic to grow it, and now hungers to reclaim what was lent."
Seraeth stepped back. "You mean magic is… alive?"
"It is the echo of a god," Vaelen murmured. "We've all been drinking from a well poisoned by divinity."
Kael swallowed. "And the shards?"
"Locks," the Hollowed King said. "And now keys. You have them all. That means the Heart knows. It will wake."
Kael stepped toward the Gate. "Then we stop it."
The Hollowed King shook his head. "To stop it, you must enter the Heart. But no one has ever returned."
"Then it's my turn to try."
---
They camped beneath the stones that night. The Hollowed King did not sleep. He stood like a sentinel at the edge of eternity.
Seraeth sharpened her blade in silence. Vaelen meditated, breath shallow.
Kael couldn't rest. The shards pulsed with anticipation. The Crownshard in particular thrummed with heat and vision.
He dreamed.
---
In the dream, Kael stood in a throne room made of stars. The walls wept light. Shadows crept along the edges.
A voice echoed from everywhere.
"Why do you resist?"
Kael stood tall. "Because I know who I am."
"You are mine."
A figure emerged—a silhouette of Kael, burning from within. Its eyes were voids. Its smile was death.
"You carry my seed. You are my return."
Kael reached into his chest and pulled out the shards.
"No," he whispered. "I am myself."
He shattered them in his hands.
The figure screamed.
---
He woke with a gasp.
The shards were still there.
But one—Wind—had cracked.
Vaelen noticed. "The dream?"
Kael nodded. "The Heart speaks."
"Then speak back," Seraeth said.
---
At dawn, they approached the Gate.
The Hollowed King stepped aside.
"I cannot follow you. I already chose. This world needs a bearer of truth, not chains."
Kael took a deep breath. The shards floated from his pack, orbiting him.
The Gate opened with a sound like all the oceans breathing.
He stepped through.
---
Inside the Heart
Light. Fire. Time.
He stood in a place that wasn't a place.
A field of stars, each one tethered to moments in history. Battles, births, betrayals.
In the center, a great tree—its bark made of runes, its leaves golden flame.
The World-Root.
He approached.
It spoke.
"You have come to end the lie."
"I've come to understand it."
"You carry the shards. You carry me."
Kael nodded. "And I carry choice."
The tree shuddered.
"Few resist the song. Fewer still come willing to lose."
"What do you want?"
"To return. To drink the magic back into the core. To rest."
"Then do it," Kael said. "But without devouring the world."
The leaves turned black.
"Impossible. Magic is hunger. You starved me. You danced on my bones. Now I feed."
Kael raised his hands.
The shards spun into a circle.
He cast them into the air.
"I break the chain. I offer freedom. Not to rule. Not to bind. But to give magic back to the people."
The World-Root screamed.
And shattered.
---
He fell.
Through light.
Through time.
Through self.
---
He woke in a field.
No shards.
No crown.
No Hollowed King.
Just birdsong.
Seraeth sat beside him, smiling through tears.
"You did it."
Vaelen wept openly.
Magic flowed in the world—but it was different. Softer. Wilder. No longer bound to the shards, no longer hoarded.
The Gate was gone.
The Crossroads, silent.
Kael sat up. "What year is it?"
Vaelen blinked. "The same."
"Then I wasn't gone long."
Seraeth smiled. "You were never gone. Just… asleep."
Kael closed his eyes.
The shards were gone.
But the world lived.
And that was enough.
---
End of Chapter 13