A scream cut through the dark, sharp as broken glass. Rael's hand still throbbed where the blade had touched him. The wound crawled with an icy, unnatural ache—a sickness that wanted to spread, to eat away the flesh from the inside. But there was no time for weakness. All around the crater, the hungry closed in.
Rael forced his breathing steady. The throne pulsed beneath him, power flooding his limbs, sharpening his mind. Every shadow in the ruins was an enemy. The children from earlier were gone—only the desperate or mad remained. He could feel their hatred like a heat against his skin. Monsters and men drawn together by the scent of blood and the old magic stirring from the throne.
He watched as the first of them stepped into the pale moonlight—thin, hunched, barely human, eyes reflecting like coins at the bottom of a well. The monsters from the edge followed, no longer hiding their twisted forms: limbs too long, spines warped, teeth gleaming. Some were men driven past breaking; others had never been men at all.
They circled, silent at first. Then the jeering started."False king!""He sits on dust!""He bleeds like any other—take the throne, take the power!"
Rael gripped the armrests. He could feel the throne's will—cold, ancient, unyielding—twist through his mind, feeding him knowledge. The city was listening. The world itself waited to see who would claim the seat. Every pair of eyes out there wanted him dead, wanted the throne broken and the old order erased forever.
The closest figure—a woman with a torn cloak, one arm twisted backward at the elbow—lunged first. Rael didn't hesitate. With the throne's power, he forced reality to bend just enough: the ground beneath her turned to mud, sucking at her legs. She fell face-first, teeth smashing on stone.
The others surged forward, screaming.Rael reached out with his wounded hand, ignoring the pain. The throne responded—ash lifted in a storm, shards of broken glass spinning through the air. Screams echoed as the first wave hit the storm, flesh cut to ribbons, eyes blinded.
Still, they came.A man with no nose, jaw slack and eyes burning, hurled a rock at Rael's head. Rael ducked. The throne's golden veins flared, and the ground burst open, swallowing two attackers whole. The rest hesitated, rage flickering into terror.
"You want this throne?" Rael's voice carried over the chaos, cold as iron. "Come and take it. But know what it costs."
His words cut through the mob, but only spurred the hungriest. Three more broke from the pack, wielding clubs and scrap metal. Rael stood, pain threatening to take him down. He let it feed his anger. The throne roared beneath his feet.
He raised his hand—blood dripping from his wound—and the power answered. The moonlight warped, growing brighter, twisting into a lance of silver fire. It struck the ground, splitting stone and sending the attackers flying. When the dust cleared, only one was left standing—a girl, young, half-starved, but with eyes that burned with something close to hope.
She didn't attack. She simply stared at him, silent, then turned and fled into the ruins.The rest either lay dead or dragged themselves away, broken and weeping.
But the night wasn't done.The shadows beyond the crater thickened. Something massive moved just beyond the edge of the world, its shape too large and wrong to be a man. Red eyes flickered in the dark, dozens of them, fixed on Rael and his throne. The ground shuddered as the thing approached—a crawling nightmare, hunger and power wrapped in ancient flesh.
Rael's heart hammered. For a second, the wound on his hand seemed to pulse in time with the thing's advance. The throne went silent beneath him, cold and unhelpful. The power was spent, at least for now.
He stood his ground, blood running down his arm, vision blurring at the edges. The thing beyond the ruins growled—a sound that shook the stones and called to every monster still hiding in the dark.
"You will not claim me," Rael whispered, half to himself, half to the world.
But as the ground split open and the beast's maw stretched wide, Rael knew this wasn't just another night in the ruins.
This was the beginning of something far worse.
The crater's edge groaned as the nightmare moved closer. Rael could see it now—flesh hanging loose, too many legs, a crown of jagged antlers twisting from its skull. Its hide was laced with metal scraps, chains still clinging from a time it might have been imprisoned by men. Now, nothing bound it. Each step it took left the earth rotting beneath.
The throne pulsed, warning Rael of the danger. Power scraped at his bones, hungry and restless. But his own strength was draining, his wound throbbing, black veins spiderwebbing up his arm. He knew that if the poison reached his shoulder, he'd lose more than just the fight—he'd lose himself. Still, Rael clenched his jaw. If he was to fall, he would fall as king.
The monster roared—a sound that rattled every bone in his body. Around the crater, those who survived the earlier carnage scattered, vanishing into the city's skeleton, leaving Rael alone against the beast. Ash whirled in the air, thick enough to choke. Every instinct told him to run, but the throne anchored him, both curse and salvation.
He gripped the armrest, drawing on every memory of pain and triumph. "You want a king?" he snarled, voice cutting through the storm. "Come claim the crown."
The creature responded in kind. It lunged, impossibly fast for its size. Claws scraped stone as it slammed against the throne, jaws snapping inches from Rael's face. Rael dodged, barely, slamming his wounded hand against the throne's surface, desperate for any last spark of power.
He felt something answer—deep and dangerous. The throne's voice echoed in his mind, old as the bones beneath the city:
You can bleed, but you cannot break. Yield, and your story ends here.
Rael spat blood. "I don't yield. Not to you. Not to fate."
Pain tore up his arm as the corruption tried to claim him, but Rael reached for the throne's core, digging through memories of old victories. At his will, the ground buckled. Spears of black stone erupted beneath the monster, impaling it through one of its legs. It howled, shuddering, but still kept coming. Its jaws clamped down on Rael's shoulder, teeth scraping bone. The world shrank to agony, the weight of the beast, the stench of its breath.
For a moment, Rael's vision went white. But rage pulled him back. He slammed his free fist into the monster's snout, then pressed his palm flat against its eye. The throne answered with a flash of golden fire. The beast shrieked and recoiled, flesh sizzling. It staggered, then reared up again, refusing to die.
From the crater's rim, more figures appeared—scavengers, would-be usurpers, old enemies. They watched as king and monster battled, knowing that whoever survived would decide the city's fate.
Rael's wounds bled freely, the poison spreading faster, cold and hungry. But the throne seemed to feed on his desperation, flooding him with fragments of power—just enough to keep him moving, just enough to refuse death. He slammed another spear of stone through the creature's torso. Blood sprayed his face. The monster howled, claws gouging the ground, trying to drag itself atop him and finish it.
They struggled in the dust, strength against strength, will against hunger. Every second was borrowed. The world spun, the sky burning with pale fire as if the heavens themselves watched.
Rael forced his knee up, driving it into the creature's jaw, then twisted, using its own weight to shove it off the throne's dais. It crashed down below, writhing in agony. The ground buckled, splinters of stone jutting from its body. It didn't rise.
Rael stood, chest heaving, blood dripping from every wound. He felt the poison gnaw at his mind, the cold sinking into his heart. But he didn't sit. Not yet.
Silence fell. For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then, a voice rang out from the shadows—steady, confident, too calm for this world.
"Well done, King. You still know how to bleed."
A figure stepped forward, cloaked in black, face hidden. But Rael knew that voice.An old rival, long thought dead.Someone who knew the throne's true secrets.
As Rael staggered, vision darkening at the edges, the figure raised a hand, pointing directly at the king.
"Now, let's see if you remember how to die."