The throne room felt like a tomb.
Not because it was silent, but because it was watching.
High windows bled moonlight onto the black marble floor, illuminating the throne that had ruled over their lives for years. Nitron sat upon it, relaxed as if this wasn't war but theater. His silver eyes glinted in the pale light, calm and calculating.
Elma and Calista stood together in the center of the room. The door behind them had slammed shut with a boom that rattled the chandeliers. The shard pulsed faintly under Elma's collarbone, a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
"Finally," Nitron murmured. His voice was soft, but the sound carried across the entire hall. "The pet that learned to bite."
Elma said nothing. She held her ground, pulse hammering in her ears. The leash was gone, but its ghost still burned around her throat.
Nitron rose slowly, his long black coat whispering across the floor. "You should have stayed in the shadows, girl. Now I have to put you down in front of the world."
"You'll try," Elma said.
Nitron's lips curved into a sharp smile. "Cute."
With a snap of his fingers, the throne room came alive.
The statues lining the walls groaned as cracks split their stone faces. Chains slithered from the ceiling like serpents, glowing faint red. Shadows rippled across the floor, stretching like claws toward them.
Calista's dagger was in her hand before the first statue moved. "Stay close," she whispered.
Elma nodded, but the shard had other plans.
It burned white-hot in her chest, and the shadows recoiled.
Nitron tilted his head. "Ah. So it's awake."
He raised his hand, and the chains shot forward.
Elma moved faster than she ever had before. The shard guided her, her body a puppet of its power. She caught one chain mid-strike, and light flared from her palm. The metal screamed and shattered into fragments.
Nitron's smile widened. "Good."
The statues lunged.
Calista dove forward, slicing through one's leg, sending the towering figure crashing down. Elma spun, hurling a blast of light that shattered another into rubble. But for every one they destroyed, more stepped forward, eyes glowing like embers.
The throne room was a battlefield now, magic and stone colliding with deafening force.
Nitron walked through the chaos, untouched. Every step he took made the shadows twist, every gesture summoned another wave of chains.
"You think this shard makes you my equal?" he asked calmly. "You're not chosen. You're a vessel. Nothing more."
Elma snarled, swinging her arm. A pulse of light exploded outward, disintegrating a ring of chains. "Then why are you scared?"
Nitron's silver eyes flashed.
The air around Elma thickened. The leash wasn't there, but suddenly she couldn't breathe. Pain constricted her throat, a phantom chain tightening. She dropped to one knee, gasping.
Calista leapt in front of her, dagger raised. "Stop!"
"Sit," Nitron said. His voice was soft, but the weight behind it made the marble crack beneath Elma's boots.
The shard screamed in her chest.
White-hot light surged through her veins, burning away the phantom grip. She screamed and thrust her hand forward, sending a beam of light straight at Nitron.
He raised his arm lazily, a wall of black fire blooming in front of him. The light hit it and exploded, shaking the throne room like an earthquake.
Nitron staggered, his calm cracking for the first time.
Elma's chest heaved as she rose to her feet, shard pulsing like a second heart.
Calista grabbed her wrist. "We can't outlast him."
"We don't need to," Elma growled. "We just need to hurt him."
Nitron's smile returned, razor-sharp. "Hurt me? Oh, little rat, you still think pain makes you dangerous."
He raised both arms, and the floor shattered.
Chains erupted from the cracks, striking like vipers. One wrapped around Elma's leg, another her waist, yanking her off her feet. She slammed into the ground, breath knocked from her lungs.
Calista slashed at the chains, but they were endless, writhing like living creatures.
Nitron's shadow loomed over them. "You were mine," he said softly. "You are mine. Even now."
The shard's voice thundered in Elma's mind. Break him.
She gritted her teeth and grabbed the chain around her waist. Light surged through her arm, and the metal melted in her grip. She twisted, using the shard's power to hurl the molten fragments at Nitron.
He blocked most of it, but one glowing shard grazed his cheek.
A thin line of blood slid down his face.
The throne room went still.
Nitron touched the blood with his fingertip, then looked at her with something she had never seen before: rage.
Calista grabbed Elma's arm. "Move!"
The entire room erupted.
Statues burst apart, chains lashed out in every direction, and black fire roared from the walls. Elma and Calista dove for cover behind a broken pillar, the shard's glow lighting the shadows around them.
Elma's body shook. The shard was burning her alive from the inside, every vein lit with white fire. She felt like she was splitting in two.
Calista cupped her face, forcing her to focus. "Look at me. Breathe."
Elma met her eyes, the chaos fading for a moment.
"You're not his weapon anymore," Calista whispered.
The shard pulsed violently.
Elma rose, light spilling from her hands.
Nitron snarled and sent a wall of chains crashing toward her. She thrust her arms forward, and the light became a storm.
The two forces collided with a deafening crack that shook the throne room's foundations.
Nitron staggered back again, shielding himself from the blast. For the first time, he looked less like a god and more like a man fighting for control.
Elma stepped forward through the storm of light, the shard blazing like a star in her chest.
"This is over," she said.
Nitron's laugh was sharp and cold. "No. This is beginning."
He slammed his hand to the ground, and the floor beneath him shattered, revealing a swirling abyss of shadow. Chains erupted from it, lashing at Elma like whips.
She caught one, yanking hard enough to pull Nitron forward. He stumbled, shock flashing across his face.
Elma didn't hesitate. She drove her hand forward, pressing it against his chest.
The shard flared.
Nitron screamed.
The light burned through his armor, searing into his body. Shadows writhed around him, trying to shield him, but the shard's light tore through them like paper.
Calista leapt forward, dagger flashing, and slashed across Nitron's arm, severing one of the chains he was controlling.
He roared, staggering back. The abyss closed, and the shadows retreated.
The throne room was in ruins—pillars shattered, statues broken, chains melted into slag.
Nitron stood at the far end, blood dripping from his mouth.
And then… he smiled.
"Well done," he rasped. "You've finally become interesting."
With a wave of his hand, a wave of black smoke engulfed him.
When it cleared, he was gone.
Elma collapsed to her knees, chest heaving. The shard dimmed, its power settling into a faint glow.
Calista knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We drove him off," she whispered. "We actually—"
"No," Elma said hoarsely. "He let us live."
The words hung heavy in the destroyed throne room.
[Quest Updated: Thronebreaker]
Status: Nitron Wounded, Not Defeated.
Objective: Regroup, Prepare for the Final Strike.
Risk Level: Catastrophic.