THE THRONE'S EMBRACE...
The moment Elias sat on the ancient throne, the world around him seemed to shift. The air thickened, swirling with chaotic magic, dense and suffocating. His senses exploded with an overwhelming flood of information—far too much to comprehend all at once.
The golden runes carved into the throne pulsed, bathing the chamber in a shifting, eerie glow. Their light wove patterns across his skin, sinking into his very being. The whispers returned, but these were not the distant, indecipherable murmurs he had heard before.
They were sharper. Louder.
"You have chosen, Arcane King. The power is yours."
Elias gasped as his vision blurred. A thousand voices clashed in his mind—memories, knowledge, power. It was exhilarating. It was unbearable.
From somewhere beyond the throne's grasp, Seraphina's voice called out.
"Elias! Get up!"
Her voice barely registered. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey. The throne had claimed him. It wrapped around him like chains made of raw energy, binding him to its will.
A deep pressure coiled in his chest, stretching through his veins. It wasn't pain—it was something more. A force that did not belong to him but was becoming him.
THE WEIGHT OF POWER...
The power inside him surged, threatening to tear him apart. His pulse roared in his ears as energy twisted through his body, searing, reshaping. Every nerve in his body burned, alight with the raw, arcane force.
His heart pounded as if something deep within him was trying to break free.
"What have I done?"
His voice was hoarse, echoing through the vast chamber—yet it sounded distant, swallowed by the magic consuming him.
Then, the memories struck.
He saw visions of kings who had come before him. Their triumphs. Their suffering. Their inevitable downfalls. The throne had absorbed them all, and now their voices tangled with his own thoughts, a chorus of the lost.
Some had ruled with wisdom. Others with cruelty.
All had perished.
He tried to resist, to push back against the tide of foreign emotions and histories, but the throne was unrelenting. It did not simply grant power.
It demanded submission.
THE FINAL WARNING...
A hand—warm and real—gripped his shoulder.
The touch shattered the haze for a moment, and Elias gasped, air rushing into his lungs like a man dragged from drowning waters.
"Elias, you're scaring me. Please, get up!"
Seraphina's voice cut through the storm. Her presence anchored him, a fragile but unwavering tether to the world beyond the throne.
Slowly, he forced his hands to move. His fingers dug into the arms of the throne, muscles straining against the invisible weight pressing down on him.
The golden runes flickered, as if uncertain.
Elias pushed harder.
The throne resisted.
But Seraphina didn't let go.
Bit by bit, the magic loosened its grip, retreating from his skin like reluctant shadows. His legs trembled as he stood, unsteady, his body no longer entirely his own.
Seraphina exhaled a breath of relief, her hand still firm on his shoulder.
"That was close," she whispered. "I thought you were gone."
Elias's breaths came in short, uneven gasps.
"I—I think I just made a mistake."
His gaze drifted to the throne.
Something had changed. The power had not left him entirely. It was still there, lurking beneath his skin like a caged beast. And somewhere deep inside—where the throne's voice still whispered—he felt it.
A presence.
A dark power.
And yet… a flicker of light.
A THRONE WITHIN HIM...
A new voice shattered the silence.
"Elias, listen to me."
Varian.
Elias turned, his mind still fogged by the raw magic coursing through him. Varian's face was unreadable, but his tone was firm.
"You're connected to the throne now."
Elias clenched his fists. "I know."
Varian's gaze darkened. "No, you don't. It's not just power, Elias. You can feel everything it holds—the knowledge, the history, the curse."
Elias flinched.
Curse.
The word struck something deep within him. The throne's whispers grew louder, pressing against his skull like an unbearable weight.
Seraphina stepped closer, her voice quiet but urgent. "What is it, Elias?"
He met her gaze, his chest tightening.
"I'm scared."
The words escaped before he could stop them. They tasted foreign—raw, unguarded.
"I don't know what this will do to me," he admitted. "The power… it's consuming me. It's all I can feel. I can't… control it."
Seraphina's expression softened. She reached out, pressing a hand to his chest. "You're still you, Elias. You have a choice."
Elias shook his head, the weight of the throne pressing down on him again.
"I don't know if I do anymore."
A DIVINE PRESENCE...
Before anyone could respond, the air changed.
The temperature dropped, a bone-deep chill sweeping through the chamber. The shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting along the stone floor.
And then, from the darkness, a figure emerged.
A presence so vast, so otherworldly, that it made the throne's power feel like a flickering candle in a storm.
A figure cloaked in white light.
Blinding. Radiant.
Ancient.
Elias's breath caught in his throat. His body locked in place, every instinct screaming at him to bow—to kneel before the force that had just entered the room.
The First King.
His golden eyes burned like the sun, unwavering as they met Elias's.
"You've made your choice," the First King said. "But understand this—the throne does not simply grant power. It takes something from you, too."
Elias's hands trembled. "What does it take?"
The First King stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Your soul."
The words struck him like a blade.
Elias's mind reeled. His soul?
Had the throne already begun taking it? Was that why he felt different? Why the magic felt like it was sinking into him, claiming him?
"But it's not too late," the First King continued. "You can still break free. But the price will be your life."
Elias's breath turned shallow.
Sacrifice himself to break free?
Or surrender to the throne and lose his soul piece by piece?
There was no way out.
His hands clenched into fists, fury and despair warring within him. "What choice do I have?"
The First King's eyes darkened.
"You always have a choice."
THE CHOICE TO BREAK THE CYCLE..
Elias's thoughts spun wildly.
The throne had given him power. But at what cost?
Could he continue down this path knowing it would take everything from him?
Or could he tear himself away, breaking the cycle—no matter the price?
The gods were coming. That much was certain. And when they did, he would have to face them.
Not just as a king.
But as something more.
Something neither bound nor broken
His gaze flickered to Seraphina. To Varian.
And finally, to the throne.
The whispers were still there, waiting.
But this time, Elias was listening to something else.
His own will.
And for the first time since he had sat upon the throne…
He made a choice.