Chapter 15: The Throne She Left Behind
The lobby of Vantier Tower looked the same.
Glass ceilings that captured morning light.
The Vantier insignia, carved in obsidian behind the reception desk.
Security guards with discreet comms and tailored suits.
Everything perfectly controlled.
Except for Aria.
She stood at the entrance, heart racing.
It had been four years since she vanished without warning — legally declared "in recovery," a private medical exile arranged by her father after she broke down at a board meeting.
But the truth was far stranger.
She'd been in Faerondel, a war in her soul.
And now she was back.
Damien stood beside her in a charcoal-gray suit, expression unreadable.
Kestrel waited in a surveillance van a few blocks away, tapping into the building's grid.
Aria walked in like she owned the place.
Because once, she did.
"Good morning," the receptionist said, eyes scanning her quickly. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm Aria Vantier," she said calmly, sliding her silver badge across the desk. "I'm not here for an appointment."
The woman blinked, then looked again.
Recognition flickered.
And something else—panic.
"Uh… give me one moment."
Upstairs, on the 87th floor, the new CEO was already watching.
Cameras captured Aria's image in real time.
He leaned back in the executive chair once held by her father and smiled faintly.
"She came sooner than expected," he murmured.
A man in the corner — tall, pale, unblinking — nodded.
"She remembers too much."
"Let's see what else she's hiding," the CEO said. "Send for her."
Ten minutes later, Aria stood in the private elevator, ascending toward the floor that had been sealed to her family since her father's death.
Damien checked the compact scanner in his hand. "There's a cloaked barrier up here. Hollow magic. Kestrel says it's woven directly into the floorboards."
"Can I break it?"
"You already did once," he said, smiling faintly. "When you walked through the gate. You don't need to overpower their spells — you just need to exist near them."
The elevator dinged.
And the doors opened.
The 87th floor was all glass and steel.
Sleek furniture. Dark art on the walls.
Everything designed to look modern and cold.
But Aria felt it instantly:
Corruption.
It hummed beneath the marble floors. Whispered from the walls.
The receptionist outside the office glanced up — then froze when she saw Aria.
Aria simply smiled.
"I'm here to reclaim my throne."
Inside, the new CEO stood from behind her father's desk.
He was handsome.
Too handsome.
Symmetrical in a way that felt unnatural.
Hair like sculpted obsidian. Eyes just a shade too bright.
He smiled, slow and confident.
"Miss Vantier," he said. "Welcome home."
She studied him.
And didn't blink. "You're not human."
He laughed softly. "That's rude. We've only just met."
"I don't need to meet you to smell Hollow rot."
Damien stepped forward, but Aria raised a hand.
"I want to hear what this imposter thinks he's doing in my father's chair."
The man moved with casual elegance.
"I'm Everett Rhys. Acting CEO appointed unanimously by the board six months after your father passed."
"Unanimously?" Aria echoed. "That's funny. Half of them owed me blood favors."
"Now they owe me," he said simply.
Damien growled. "You enchanted them."
Rhys raised an eyebrow. "I gave them what they wanted. Power. Protection. The illusion of peace."
"And the siphon?" Aria asked coldly. "What about that?"
Rhys smiled wider. "A necessary adjustment. The breach must be widened if we're going to save the realms."
"By destroying them?"
"By evolving them."
Aria walked slowly toward the desk.
Rhys didn't move.
He let her.
As if daring her to try something.
"You think you've won," she said quietly. "But I remember everything now. You might've stolen this office. You might've tricked the board. But this company runs on my bloodline."
Rhys's smile faltered — just slightly.
"Then prove it," he said.
She reached across the desk and placed her hand flat on its surface.
The obsidian top pulsed.
A symbol flared beneath her palm.
Not the Hollow sigil.
The original Vantier crest — a ring of fire wrapped around a sword.
It ignited with white flame.
Rhys stumbled back.
The windows darkened.
Damien shielded his eyes.
And when the light faded…
The Hollow magic embedded in the floor cracked.
A black line ran across the room, slicing through the illusion.
Rhys bared his teeth.
"You'll regret that."
"No," Aria said. "You will."
He lunged.
Faster than a normal man.
But not faster than her.
Aria didn't cast a spell.
She simply lifted her hand—
And the fire inside her surged.
Rhys froze mid-motion.
Air shimmering around him like glass cracking.
His body contorted — stuck between dimensions, his glamour unraveling.
And for the first time, Aria saw what he truly was:
A Hollow shade wearing a human face like a suit.
She stepped back.
"I banish you."
The floor lit up with ancient sigils.
Rhys screamed.
Then vanished in a burst of black smoke.
Damien rushed to her side.
"Are you okay?"
Aria's hand trembled.
But her eyes were steady.
"I've reclaimed the 87th floor."
She turned toward the dark windows and said,
"And now I take back the company."
Back downstairs, the boardroom was already in chaos.
Screens flickered. Phones rang unanswered.
The board members hadn't seen Aria Vantier in four years.
Some thought she'd died.
Others were told she was "institutionalized."
None of them expected her to walk into the conference room like a goddess on fire.
"I'm activating Article Nine," she said.
The room went silent.
"That clause hasn't been invoked since—"
"My father wrote it to protect against supernatural compromise," she said sharply. "Which means it's mine to use."
A man across the table spoke. "And your proof?"
Aria dropped the burned sigil from the 87th floor onto the table.
It hissed.
Then cracked.
The board members looked at each other.
And began to nod.
Later, Damien and Aria stood at the top of the tower.
Her hand rested on the old family crest engraved in the stone balcony.
"I didn't know I could still do that," she whispered.
"You were always the heir," Damien said. "You just forgot how to rule."
Aria turned to him.
Eyes burning.
Voice soft but strong:
"Then let's start a war."