Throne of Ashes and Flame

The fortress of Caelum's Edge loomed tall and foreboding as Kaito walked through the grand halls. Its stone walls were covered in moss and the heavy scent of damp air lingered in the corridors. Flickering torchlight illuminated the tapestries of ancient battles and long-forgotten kings that lined the walls, each story a silent echo of a kingdom that had once been great. Yet the fortress was strangely empty—no sounds of bustling soldiers, no laughter of courtiers. It felt like a place abandoned by time itself.

Kaito wasn't sure what to expect when they entered the gates, but this… this wasn't it. The soldiers who had helped carry Seraphina to the inner chambers had quickly disappeared into the shadows, leaving him alone in the hallway with only his thoughts for company.

The silence was almost oppressive.

What the hell am I doing here? Kaito thought, dragging a hand through his messy hair. He was lost, both in this fortress and in the maze of questions running through his mind. Why had he been brought here? What was this "throne of Ashes and Flame" the woman had mentioned? And more importantly, why did everything feel so familiar, as if he had walked into a place he had only dreamed of?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice calling from behind him.

"Kaito Bansal."

Kaito turned, his heart skipping a beat. A figure stood in the doorway—a tall woman dressed in regal robes, her face partially hidden by a veil. Her silver hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and her violet eyes glimmered in the dim light. She looked like a queen, or at the very least, someone with far too much power for someone like him.

"Who are you?" Kaito asked, instinctively stepping back. Despite his growing sense of unease, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, as if there was something… familiar about her too.

"My name is Isolde," the woman replied, her tone cool and commanding. She stepped into the room, her movements deliberate, as if every gesture carried the weight of a thousand decisions. "I am the second daughter of the ruling family of this kingdom. But that is not why you are here, Kaito Bansal."

"I… I don't even know why I'm here!" Kaito admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "One moment, I'm in my world, and the next, I'm here, in some kind of medieval hellscape. I'm just trying to survive, okay?"

Isolde studied him for a long moment, her gaze never wavering. There was something almost unreadable about her, like she was seeing right through him, past the confusion and fear that clouded his mind.

"You are no ordinary person," she said softly, almost to herself. "You carry with you a power, a force I have not seen in this world for centuries."

Kaito frowned. "Power? I don't have any power! I'm just—"

"You are the one who wielded the sword," she interrupted, her voice now laced with an edge of curiosity. "The sword that chose you."

Kaito's heart stuttered. He thought back to the sword, the one that had felt like it was humming with energy when he first touched it. He had no idea how it worked or why it had called to him, but he remembered the way it had felt, as though it had been waiting for him.

"What sword?" he asked, trying to steady his breathing.

Isolde stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "The sword of Ashes and Flame. The one that only reveals itself to those who are chosen. And you, Kaito Bansal, are the one it has chosen."

The room seemed to grow colder at her words, and Kaito's pulse quickened. He didn't understand. Why him? He was just some guy who had no business being in this world. His mind raced, but he couldn't find the answers he was looking for.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Kaito said quietly, more to himself than to Isolde. "I don't even know what's going on."

Isolde placed a hand on his shoulder, the touch unexpectedly gentle, though her eyes burned with intensity. "I know you are confused. But this world, this empire, is on the brink of collapse. The throne—the one of Ashes and Flame—is calling for its ruler. And you, Kaito Bansal, are the key to deciding who that ruler will be."

Kaito jerked away from her touch, panic rising in his chest. "I don't want to be a ruler! I just want to get home, get back to my normal life."

Isolde's gaze softened, just for a moment, before the cold edge returned. "You do not understand. This is not about what you want. This is about what is necessary. The world will fall into chaos unless someone takes the throne, and you, whether you like it or not, are that someone."

Kaito's head spun. His thoughts swirled in a haze of disbelief. He wasn't a ruler, he wasn't even a soldier. He was a college student. How could he possibly be the one to decide the fate of this world?

But Isolde was unyielding. "You have a choice to make, Kaito Bansal. You can walk away, ignore the destiny that awaits you, and allow the world to descend into darkness. Or you can rise to the challenge, take the throne, and shape the future of this empire."

Kaito swallowed hard, his throat dry. The weight of her words pressed down on him. The choice was impossible. He didn't belong here. He wasn't meant to be a ruler.

But in the back of his mind, something stirred. A faint memory of the sword. A whisper of something ancient, something powerful. Could he really just walk away?

Before he could respond, the door to the room burst open, and the sounds of shouting echoed in from the hallway. A group of soldiers, their faces grim and their swords drawn, stormed into the room. At their head was a man with dark, slicked-back hair, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

"You must come with us, Princess Isolde," the man said, his voice commanding. "There is no time."

Isolde's eyes narrowed as she turned toward the man. "What is it?"

"The emperor's army is on the move," the soldier replied. "The war has begun."

Isolde's gaze flicked back to Kaito. "This is only the beginning. We will speak more later."

Kaito's mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything. The empire was at war, and he had somehow become a part of it. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders. Was he ready for this? Could he really fight for a throne he didn't want?

He wasn't sure. But the strange sword, the whispers of destiny, and Isolde's cryptic words all told him one thing: his life was no longer his own.