The woman stood still.Her armor shimmered faintly—Not metal.Something older.
Vael slowly rose.His legs trembled.Not from weakness—From what he'd seen.
She looked at him.Not kindly.Not coldly.Just… knowing.
"I am Elira," she said."Sentinel of the Pale Gate.Last bearer before the shattering."
Nyra stepped closer."You fought the First King?"
"I was meant to replace him."Her eyes dimmed."I failed."
Reylen's hand tightened around his hilt."What is this place really?"
Elira turned to the thrones.
"This is not a tomb.It's a warning.Each throne, a soul consumed.Each crown, a chain."
Eron's voice was low."Then why are you still here?"
Elira looked at Vael.
"Because one has finally resisted.You broke the crown's bond—if only for a moment."
Vael frowned."It's still here. Still whispering."
She nodded."It always will.But now, you have a choice."
She raised a hand.A small shard of silver floated above her palm.Not a relic.A memory.
"This piece is pure.Untouched by the Echo's curse.Take it—And I'll guide you to the Forge."
Vael hesitated."What happens there?"
"You either destroy the crown—Or become its new King."
The room darkened.The pit pulsed again.Faint. But hungrier.
Vael looked at his friends.Then at the thrones.Then at Elira.
He reached out.Took the shard.
The crown flickered.One of its twisted points cracked and fell.
Elira smiled for the first time.
"You may be the end of this story.Or the beginning of something worse."
A doorway opened behind her.Stone stairs, spiraling upward.
The others followed.But Vael lingered.
He looked back at the broken thrones.At the pit.
And stepped forward into the light.