The Twilight Sea was a place few dared to cross. Sailors spoke of it in murmurs, as a cursed ocean where stars vanished and compasses spun like drunkards. For centuries, maps ended with sketches of sea serpents and the phrase "Here the World Fails." But Prince Alden Solvar did not believe in final borders, only undiscovered truths.
The Elarion Windrider, an elven skyship retrofitted with dwarven arc engines and Solandrian hull-plating, floated like a blade over the glassy black waters. Its hull hummed softly with rune powered energy as it cut through violet mist.
On the main deck, Alden leaned over the bow, his cloak snapping in the wind. Elira joined him, her eyes scanning the horizon with a strange glint, part fear, part wonder.
"We've sailed beyond all known charts," she said, her voice hushed. "The stars here don't even follow the Creator's constellations."
"They don't," Alden agreed. "But they whisper."
She looked at him sharply. "You heard it too?"
He nodded. "Last night. In my dreams. A voice… deep and hollow. It said: 'The Fifth Throne waits beneath the eclipse.'"
Behind them, the crew murmured uneasily. Even the usually unshakable dwarven engineer, Brundir Flintforge, kept muttering protective charms under his breath as he adjusted the ship's ventral stabilizers.
Elira turned to the helm. "Kaelen, are the wards holding?"
Kaelen Starwind didn't answer at first. His brow furrowed as he studied the shimmering compass dial set into the helm's console. "They're holding," he finally said. "Barely. Something's trying to bleed through the boundaries between realms. The wards are keeping us grounded in this world, but it's like flying through a dream that doesn't want us here."
Alden's hand rested on the hilt of his sword. "We press on. If there truly is a Fifth Throne, one erased from history, then we must find it."
Elira frowned. "And if there's a reason it was erased?"
"Then we'll learn why," he replied.
By nightfall, the skyship passed through the last visible ring of clouds and entered a curtain of dark violet mist. Ahead, the sea split unnaturally, parting like an open wound. From its center rose a landmass that was not there the day before.
The island was massive, more like a continent, its jagged coastline rising into obsidian cliffs. Black trees twisted skyward like frozen screams, and above them hung an eclipse that never moved a sun devoured by a motionless moon, casting the entire land in a perpetual half-light.
The crew gasped.
"This… isn't natural," Elira whispered.
Kaelen gritted his teeth. "No. It's anchored. Something here is pulling the veil down like a curtain."
Alden turned to his sister. "Ready the landing crew. We go in with light-foot scouts first. Kaelen, you and I will lead the vanguard."
Brundir shook his head. "This is foolishness. You saw the runes twisting back on themselves. If that thing overhead breaks, the time-magic backlash could erase us before we even die."
Elira placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Then let's not break anything."
The land they stepped onto had no name. No bird calls greeted them. No wind rustled the trees. Only silence deep and suffocating.
The expedition moved cautiously through the forest. Even the bravest of their number kept their voices low. Roots beneath their feet pulsed faintly with violet energy. Kaelen touched one of the trees and flinched.
"It's alive. Not just in the normal sense. It remembers."
Elira looked around. "This place wasn't forgotten. It was hidden."
As they crossed a ridge, the forest abruptly ended giving way to a vast field of black stone, carved into cyclopean shapes and symmetrical ridges. In the center stood a structure shaped like a throne, but not for any being of flesh.
It was vast, easily the height of a mountain fortress and carved from material that shimmered like liquid shadow. Its shape shifted when stared at too long: sometimes a chair, sometimes a circle, sometimes an eye.
A chill swept over the group. Elira gasped, then suddenly clutched her chest.
"Elira?" Alden rushed to her side.
She was breathing hard, her hand glowing faintly.
"The Heart of Eldaris," she said through clenched teeth. "It's… reacting. This is it. This is where the Creator sealed something away."
Suddenly, Kaelen drew his sword.
Something stirred at the base of the throne.
Figures stepped from the shadows. Tall, hooded beings with skin like ink and eyes like violet stars. They spoke in a language that echoed not in the air but in the mind.
"Welcome, Children of the Four. You walk upon the memory of the First Kingdom."
"You now stand before the Throne of Velkaron."
The beings—who called themselves Umbrakin claimed to be the remnants of an ancient people who once ruled alongside the Creator. Not as subjects. As siblings.
"Velkaron was not a tyrant," one of them said. "He was balance. The mirror to the light of creation. But the other gods feared him. So they broke him… and broke the world with him."
Elira sat in stunned silence as the words washed over her. "He was erased from all records."
"Not erased," the Umbrakin corrected. "Buried. Because if the Fifth Throne rises again, so too does the truth."
Alden stepped forward. "What does he want?"
Another voice answered, not from the Umbrakin, but from everywhere.
"To finish what was started."
The eclipse overhead pulsed once.
A rumble shook the ground. And from beneath the throne, a stairway began to unfold, leading deeper into the earth.
Elira's voice trembled. "We've awakened it."
Kaelen raised his blade. "Or maybe it let us in."