The world fractured.
Not like breaking glass. Not like collapsing stone.
Like a dream being torn apart.
Ezra's vision blurred, his body tilting as the city folded in on itself.
The throne shook, cracks splintering across its surface.
And his other self—the one in the doorway—just stood there.
Smiling.
Calm. Amused.
Like this was all just a joke.
Ezra's grip on his dagger tightened. "Alright. You gonna explain, or is this just another 'figure it out yourself' moment?"
His other self tilted his head.
"Why ruin the fun?"
The cracks spread.
The throne groaned, stone twisting, the air thick with something unseen.
And deep beneath it—
Something moved.
A shiver ran through Ezra's spine. Something was waking up.
His instincts screamed: Leave. Now.
But the door—
The door was gone.
His other self took a slow step forward.
"You don't understand yet, do you?"
Ezra exhaled sharply. "That seems to be a running theme."
"It's not about the throne."
Ezra frowned. "What?"
The other Ezra's smile widened.
"It's about who sits in it."
Ezra's stomach twisted.
And then—
The throne spoke.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
But in pressure.
A weight that crushed the air, coiling into his skull, deeper than thought.
And in that moment—
Ezra knew.
This was never a throne.
It was a cage.
And something inside it wanted out.
The cracks split wider.
The city trembled.
And Ezra had seconds—seconds to act before whatever was imprisoned here broke free.
He turned to his other self.
The smile was gone now.
The expression unreadable.
But his eyes—
They were waiting.
Like he was testing him.
Like he was daring him to choose.
Ezra's pulse pounded.
Stay and face what was coming?
Or run and risk the unknown?
Either way—
The game had changed.
And Ezra had no idea if he was winning.