Ezra fell.
Not through space. Not through time.
Through memory.
Fragments of his past—his true past—rushed past him like shattered glass, flashing in the void.
A battlefield soaked in crimson.
A city swallowed by an eternal storm.
A kingdom with no king.
And at the center of it all— himself.
Not as Ezra. Not as the person he had believed himself to be.
But as something else.
Something forgotten.
Something that should have stayed buried.
The weight of it crushed his chest, like invisible chains tightening around his soul.
And then—
Ezra stopped falling.
He landed softly , his boots pressing into cold marble.
The throne room.
But not the one he had seen before.
This one was whole .
Perfect.
The walls stretched high, carved from obsidian , adorned with flickering sigils that pulsed with an unseen rhythm.
And in the center, waiting for him—
The throne.
It was simple. No jewels, no decorations. Just a black seat , humming with an impossible presence.
Ezra's breath came slow and uneven.
His fingers twitched.
His heart pounded.
Because he knew.
He had sat there before.
And he had left.
The realization hit like a hammer.
He hadn't been overthrown.
He hadn't lost a war.
He had walked away.
The whisper in his mind stirred, softer than before.
"You were never meant to rule."
Ezra exhaled.
He took a slow step forward, his boots echoing in the silent hall.
His other self appeared beside him, watching with that same quiet amusement.
"You remember now."
Ezra's jaw clenched. "Not everything."
The double tilted his head. "Enough."
Ezra stared at the throne.
It wasn't calling to him.
It wasn't demanding anything.
It was waiting.
Like it had been here this whole time, patient, knowing he would return.
Not because he had to.
Because he had a choice.
Ezra's breath was steady now.
He understood.
And for the first time since he had arrived in this world—
He laughed.
A sharp, bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "All this time… and I was just running from myself."
His other self grinned.
Ezra sighed.
He stepped forward—
And did not sit.
Instead, he reached out.
And with a single, quiet gesture —
He turned the throne away.
It was no longer his.
It had never been.
The hall shuddered , the obsidian walls cracking. The ancient sigils dimmed.
The world rejected him.
And he smiled.
"Let someone else play king."
The throne room collapsed.
And Ezra walked away.