Kael stood still before the First Throne. Time lost all meaning in its presence. It wasn't just a seat of power. it was a wound in the world, pulsing with the echoes of fallen empires and kings who traded their souls for legacies.
Dust floated in the air like ancient ash, suspended in a silence too heavy to be natural. Lira dared not speak. Even the Uncrowned guide had fallen behind, unwilling, or unable to follow further.
Kael stepped forward.
As he did, a soft, cracking sound whispered beneath his boots. The floor… it was bone. Thousands of bones. Crushed into the stone. Not just kings. Soldiers. Servants. Children.
A price for power.
Then the voice came again, not from behind, nor above, but from within.
"Will you sit upon the throne, boy?"
Kael's hand drifted to his blade. "What happens if I do?"
"You see. You remember. You lose everything that makes you soft."
A figure formed on the throne not fully man, not fully shadow. Armor charred black. A crown of thorns that bled with every breath it took. Its face was a mirror of Kael's, but older, scarred, and cruel.
"I am the Kael who chose the throne without mercy."
Kael's blood ran cold.
The phantom rose, dragging a sword made of burned vows. Every swing of it brought with it whispers of regret, betrayal, and flame.
They fought.
Steel rang in the dead hall, echoing off the thrones. Every blow Kael landed on the shadow was mirrored on his own body. A cut on the arm. A bruise on his ribs. Pain shared. Pain accepted.
But he kept fighting.
Not for glory.
Not for power.
For understanding.
For truth.
At last, Kael drove his sword into the phantom's chest, pinning it to the First Throne.
The shade gasped, coughing blood.
"You were always meant to bleed for them."
Kael dropped to his knees, exhausted, trembling. "Then let me choose what I bleed for."
The throne pulsed once, then stilled. The vision faded.
When he rose again, something had changed. His right hand was marked with a brand-circular, etched with the insignia of a forgotten crown, burning like fresh fire.
Lira ran to him. "What happened?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He looked at the throne, now empty again.
"I saw who I could become… and who I must never be."
She looked at his hand. "That mark…"
"It's a warning," Kael said. "And a key."
He turned toward the end of the Hall, where a new path had opened, dark, wet, and whispering his name.
Without hesitation, Kael stepped into it.