The bells tolled through the valley of Althra as dawn light spilled over the white towers of the Eternal Kingdom. Their echoes reached even the highest spires of the Celestial Palace, where the Queen of Six Thousand Years stood in silence. Her name had long been forgotten—replaced by a single title that carried the weight of both reverence and fear.
She was known as The Everqueen, the immortal priestess chosen by the last King before the end of his bloodline.
Six millennia ago, when the mortal king of Althra felt the icy grip of death approaching, he cursed his own name. His paranoia had driven him to slaughter every relative who might claim his throne. And when he realized the folly of his deeds, he sought a successor who could carry eternity itself—someone untouched by greed, someone divine.
So he turned to the High Priestess of the Sun.
She had been the keeper of divine balance, the voice between mortals and gods. Her prayers had ended droughts, silenced storms, and tamed dragons. The King, desperate and dying, decreed her to be his successor. Yet he did not crown her in that moment. He left her with one cruel command:
> "When you have achieved something greater than any mortal ever could—when your light surpasses even the gods—then the throne shall be yours."
And then the king died, leaving his crown upon an empty throne.
That was six thousand years ago.
Now, the Everqueen still ruled—unchanged, unaged, unbroken. Her eyes glowed with ancient wisdom, her voice carried through the air like a hymn, and her golden scales of balance floated before her as symbols of divine judgment. To the people, she was a living goddess. To herself, she was a prisoner of purpose.
Because no one, not even she, could remember what she had achieved to earn her crown.
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The palace of the Everqueen was silent except for the hum of magic that pulsed through the marble walls. Blue light streamed through the stained glass depictions of long-forgotten heroes—each summoned from distant worlds to fight the Demon King who rose once every century.
And as always, the Everqueen waited for the moment when the air trembled, the ground cracked, and the Cycle of Shadows began anew.
It was the hundredth year.
The sigils in the summoning chamber began to glow—a vast circle inscribed with runes older than the stars themselves. Candles flared, and the golden scales before the Queen spun slowly, weighing unseen fates. She lifted her hooded gaze to the heavens and whispered the ancient invocation.
> "By the covenant of light and shadow, by the will of gods and men, I call upon the hero who stands beyond this realm—answer the call of the Eternal Throne."
Lightning laced through the air, and a blinding white rift tore open in the center of the chamber. From it fell a young man—clad not in armor, but in simple, modern clothes.
He landed hard on the polished floor, coughing, eyes wide with terror.
The Everqueen regarded him with solemn calm. "You have been chosen," she said, her voice like the echo of a thousand years. "From beyond the veil of worlds, you stand before the throne of Althra."
The boy blinked rapidly, struggling to understand. "W-what—where am I? Who are you?"
"I am the Queen," she replied, stepping forward. The golden chains of her robes clinked softly with her movement. "And you, child of another realm, are the hero who will face the Demon King."
He looked at her as if she'd spoken madness. "A hero? I'm just a college student! I don't even—"
"Every hero says that," she interrupted gently, a trace of weary amusement in her tone. "And yet, they all become legends."
She turned away, and the scales before her shimmered, showing faint images of the past—warriors, mages, and wanderers who once stood where the boy stood now. Their faces blurred together into a pattern of endless sacrifice.
The boy rose shakily to his feet. "What happens if I refuse?"
The Queen's expression softened, though her eyes—hidden beneath the golden visor—remained unreadable. "You cannot refuse destiny. The Demon King has risen again, as it always does. If you do nothing, your world will suffer too. The corruption spreads through all worlds once the balance is broken."
He hesitated, gripping his trembling hands. "What balance?"
The Queen raised her hand, and one of the golden scales floated between them. "The balance of creation. The world of men and the world of demons are tied together by a single thread. Each time a Demon King dies, another is born from the despair of mortals. To destroy the cycle entirely…"
She paused. "Would require breaking the covenant itself."
The boy frowned. "So… all this time, you've been summoning people to fight a war that never ends?"
The Everqueen nodded slowly. "Yes. For six thousand years, I have upheld the covenant. And for six thousand years, I have failed to end it."
The chamber fell into silence, save for the faint hum of magic. The boy looked around—at the shimmering walls, the golden artifacts, the murals depicting heroes long forgotten.
"You said you were human once," he murmured. "What happened to you?"
The Queen's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to answer. But then she looked away, her hand touching the ornate pendant on her chest.
"I… achieved something," she whispered. "Something that the gods themselves could not. But the memory was taken from me—perhaps as the price for immortality."
The boy's brow furrowed. "Then why keep doing this? Why keep summoning heroes if it just repeats?"
Her answer came with quiet conviction. "Because the light must always rise, even when the darkness returns."
She lifted her gaze toward the stained glass ceiling, where the symbol of the sun burned brightly against the blue. "One day, a hero will break the cycle. One day, the world will no longer need me."
The boy stood silent for a long moment. Then, despite the fear still in his eyes, he straightened his back. "Then I'll do it. Not just because you summoned me—but because no one deserves to carry that alone."
For the first time in centuries, the Queen smiled—a faint, sorrowful smile.
"So be it," she said softly. "Rise, Hero of the Seventh Cycle. May your light burn brighter than the rest."
The scales between them balanced perfectly for an instant—light and shadow, life and death, fate and defiance.
And far beyond the palace walls, in the dark lands where the new Demon King stirred from his slumber, the world itself began to tremble once more.