The air inside the pit was heavier than anything Kairo had ever felt.
Each breath he took felt like swallowing smoke and lightning. The cursed marks on his arms pulsed wildly, responding to the throne's voice. It echoed through his bones, louder than thoughts.
"Come closer."
"Let your blood remember."
The Bone Throne wasn't just a seat.
It was a living creature.
Built of bone, forged from ancient suffering, wrapped in chains older than language. At its base, skulls were embedded in the stone — some human, some not. Its surface writhed with black tendrils, like veins under skin.
And in the center, a hollow space shaped like a person.
It was waiting for someone to sit.
Waiting for him.
Kairo took one step forward.
The ground shook.
Above the pit, Lira was pacing. Solin sat near the fire, arms crossed, eyes closed.
"You just let him jump," Lira muttered.
"He wasn't forced," Solin replied. "He was summoned."
Lira glared at him. "You think that makes it better?"
"He's not like us anymore."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"He didn't fall into the curse."
He opened his eyes and stared into the dark pit.
"He became it."
Kairo stood at the base of the throne now.
Every step he took made the whispers louder.
Faces flickered in the air. Spirits of the forgotten. Boys and girls who had carried cursed marks before him — and died for it.
Some cried.
Some screamed.
Some just watched.
One stepped forward — a girl with long black hair and no eyes.
"We sat too early," she whispered.
"We weren't ready."
"But you… you're different."
Kairo's hand hovered near the throne's edge.
The throne inhaled. A deep, soul-chilling breath.
"You are the one who laughs in pain."
"The one who walks without magic, yet breaks it."
"You mock the gods and survive the curse."
Kairo gritted his teeth.
"I didn't ask for this," he said.
"No heir ever does."
The throne pulsed.
A heartbeat echoed.
BOOM.
BOOM.
"Sit."
"And become what the world fears."
Kairo stared into the hollow shape in the center.
It was shaped like him.
Made for him.
And yet…
He hesitated.
Then, footsteps.
He turned sharply.
A second figure was approaching from the shadows.
White hair.
Familiar eyes.
Solin.
Kairo blinked. "How—?"
"I jumped too," Solin said. "Didn't want you having all the fun."
The throne reacted violently. Chains rattled. The skulls beneath it cracked.
"There cannot be two."
"One must fall."
Kairo stepped back. "Solin, don't—"
But Solin walked forward calmly, staring up at the throne. "You felt it, didn't you? The pull. The hunger. It wants to be sat on. It needs a ruler."
Kairo raised his hand. "I'm not fighting you again."
Solin grinned. "You won't have to."
He stopped inches from the throne.
Then turned to Kairo.
"But you better figure out what kind of king you want to be… before someone worse finds this place."
He reached into his coat and tossed something to Kairo.
A jagged shard of bone. Glowing faintly.
Kairo caught it.
Solin stepped back into the shadows.
And vanished.
Kairo turned to the throne again.
The bone shard in his hand pulsed with his heartbeat.
He didn't sit.
Not yet.
Instead, he knelt and placed the shard at the base of the throne.
"I'm not ready," he said softly. "But I'll come back."
The throne didn't argue.
The voices fell silent.
For now.
Moments later, Kairo rose from the pit.
He emerged like a shadow climbing from a grave.
Lira ran to him, eyes wide. "You idiot!"
He barely caught her as she slammed into him with a hug.
"Don't ever do that again," she whispered.
Kairo smiled faintly. "No promises."
That night, they lit no fire.
And Kairo sat in silence, staring at the bone shard in his hand.
Not cursed.
Not gifted.
Not stolen.
Chosen.