Crown of shadows and sin

The Ember Vault had not been opened in over a century.

Now, its seals lay broken.

Kael stepped first into the darkness, frost curling from his fingers to light the path ahead. The vault was deeper than it looked carved beneath the Hollow Hall, forged from obsidian and fire-scarred stone.

Behind him, Alera moved in silence, her cloak brushing the edges of the rune-marked walls. Her eyes never left the path.

She had seen the throne once before.

In a dream.

It had bled light. And it had whispered her name.

Kieran followed last, blades sheathed but humming faintly with energy. Since the Rite, shadows clung to him like breath. His movements were slower now, heavier but more dangerous.

They reached the center chamber.

There it sat.

The Ember Throne.

Not made of gold or jewels, but stone fused with the bones of dead kings. Every part of it pulsed with forgotten magic. It wasn't just a seat of power.

It was a mind.

A voice.

And it was already speaking.

Alera stepped toward it.

Immediately, pain bloomed behind her eyes.

Visions.

A boy crowned in chains. A woman burning in holy fire. A sword of ice shattering a heart of flame.

She staggered back.

Kael caught her, his hand ice-cold. "It's feeding off your blood. It knows what you carry."

Kieran unsheathed his blade. "Then let's end it."

But the throne spoke.

Not in words.

In memory.

Each of them saw something different.

Alera saw herself on the throne, child in arms, her face carved in stone by future generations. The savior of the realm. The mother of gods.

Kieran saw fire consuming the Hollow Hall, Alera's body in his arms, his hands soaked in ash. His power uncontrollable. Endless.

Kael saw only one thing: nothing. A world where he never existed. And for the first time in his life, he screamed.

The vision shattered.

Kieran drove his blade into the base of the throne.

The metal hissed.

The throne laughed.

It began to awaken.

Light burst from its cracks red, violet, silver. The magic that had once sealed gods and chosen rulers began to rise again. The chamber trembled.

"We're too late," Kael said. "The Bone Heir doesn't need to reach it. He already touched it through us."

Alera turned. "Then we destroy it from within."

"No!" Kael snapped. "You're carrying the one soul strong enough to resist it. If you get too close"

"I don't care," she growled.

The child within her stirred. Strong. Aware.

This throne had taken everything from her: her home, her mother, her safety, Kieran's soul.

She would not let it take her son.

She stepped forward.

The throne pulsed brighter.

Kieran tried to stop her, but the magic flung him back.

Kael screamed. "ALE.."

Too late.

She laid her hand on the armrest.

The world vanished.

She stood in a place of black skies and burning stars.

The In-Between.

Time didn't exist here. Nothing lived, and yet everything breathed.

Before her stood the Bone Heir.

He was taller than human, flesh stitched in golden thread, eyes hollow yet alive. His voice was many voices.

"You defy what was written," he said.

"I don't follow prophecy," Alera answered.

"You follow fear."

"I follow freedom."

He stepped closer. "The throne chose you because you are broken. But your child… he is still pure. Let me take him. Let me shape him."

"No."

"I will come for him, Alera of Ash. And when I do, you will kneel."

The vision snapped.

She was on her knees, hand scorched from where it touched the throne.

Kael helped her up. "Did you see him?"

She nodded. "He's close. He'll come through the city soon."

Kieran stood again, staggering. "Then we face him. No more waiting."

Alera turned to the throne.

It no longer glowed.

But it whispered still.

And in that whisper, she finally understood something.

It had never been about ruling.

It had been about remaking the world.

One heir would ascend.

Or all three would fall.