The air in the Hollow Seat crackled with unseen energy. The weight of the vision still lingered in Reinhardt's chest—the sight of himself, crowned, standing atop a field of the dead. The words echoed in his mind:
"You were a king once."
His hands trembled, not with fear, but with something far more unsettling—recognition.
Selene still held his arm, her grip tight. "Reinhardt," she said slowly, her eyes searching his. "What did you see?"
He could barely find his voice. "A battle… a throne… and me. But not me."
Selene exhaled sharply, releasing him. "Then it's true."
He turned to her, brow furrowed. "What's true?"
She hesitated. The flickering glow of the golden runes illuminated the sharp lines of her face, making her look both ethereal and unreadable. Finally, she spoke.
"There were whispers of a time before the Order," she said. "A time when the world was ruled by those who wielded power beyond magic, beyond gods. They were called the Fateborn. And they were erased from history."
Reinhardt's throat felt dry. "Erased?"
Selene nodded. "Not killed. Not dethroned. Erased. Their names, their legacies, their very existence was stripped from time itself."
The shadowed figure on the Hollow Seat shifted, as if pleased. "And yet, even time cannot undo what is written in blood."
The throne pulsed again, and Reinhardt felt it. A pull deep in his soul, something ancient, something forgotten.
Selene must have seen the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, because she stepped in front of him, her magic swirling around her fingers. "Reinhardt, listen to me," she said, voice urgent. "If this is true—if you were one of them—then this throne isn't a gift. It's a cage."
Reinhardt turned back to the throne. The shadows around it swirled, beckoning. The runes in the stone whispered with a language his mind shouldn't understand, yet somehow, he did.
Sit. Rule. Reclaim.
His heart pounded. Was this what he had been running from all along? Not just the Order, not just the entity in the void, but his own past?
The shadowed figure spoke again. "Take your place, Marked One. Or let another take it in your stead."
Selene's eyes darkened. "We need to leave. Now."
But Reinhardt wasn't sure he could.
The throne was waiting.
And the choice—**his choice—**was closer than ever before.