The Thing in the Throne
The cracks deepened.
The weight in the air doubled, then tripled.
Something was pressing down, not just on Ezra's body but on his mind—like unseen hands clawing into his thoughts.
And the throne…
It wasn't breaking.
It was shedding.
Layers of black stone peeled away, revealing something beneath.
Something alive.
Ezra took a slow step back, his dagger still raised—not that it would do much against whatever this was.
His other self didn't move.
Didn't react.
Just… watched.
Like he'd already seen how this would end.
Ezra clenched his jaw. "Are you gonna help, or just keep standing there looking cryptic?"
His double smiled again.
"Why interfere with fate?"
The whisper inside Ezra's head stirred.
"Run."
Ezra barely had time to react before—
The throne shattered.
A violent shockwave tore through the city, sending stone and glass flying.
Ezra threw himself to the ground just as something stepped free from the broken remains of the throne.
His pulse pounded.
A figure stood there.
Tall. Wrapped in a cloak of shifting black and gold, its face obscured by a smooth, featureless mask.
But its presence—
It felt ancient. Vast.
Like something that should have never been bound.
Ezra's breath hitched. "Ah. So we let out the thing that was locked away. That's fine. That's totally fine."
The figure turned toward him.
And then—spoke.
"I remember you."
Ezra's blood ran cold.
No.
Not the voice.
Not just the words.
It was the way it said them—like it wasn't just speaking to him now.
But to something older.
Something buried deep inside.
Ezra's other self finally moved, stepping closer, his expression unreadable.
"And now?" he asked the figure.
The masked being tilted its head.
"Now, I am free."
The city groaned, stone twisting, the sky fracturing like a mirror.
And Ezra knew—
This was just the beginning.