Chapter 45: The Heart of Darkness

Chapter 45: The Heart of Darkness

( Part 2: The Throne's Puzzle )

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As I stand at the threshold of the obsidian throne room, the oppressive silence feels heavier than ever. The scent of sulfur is faint, but its sting is still noticeable in the air.

There are no sounds of demons lurking, no echoing footsteps or growls from creatures of the underworld. It's unsettling, like the calm before the storm—or perhaps the end of something much worse.

My footsteps echo as I walk forward, the sound reverberating through the empty space. I can't shake the feeling that something is watching me. But when I glance around, there's nothing there.

The throne stands at the center of the room, imposing, crafted from black stone so smooth it almost seems unnatural. There's something about it that feels… alive.

The closer I get, the stronger the sensation grows. Like the throne is calling to me.

"What the hell is this?" I mutter under my breath.

I stop a few feet away from the throne, my hands instinctively reaching for the shards I carry in my bag. It's become a habit—every time I sense something dangerous, I take a dose, just in case.

The shards have been my lifeline for so long that I barely think about it anymore.

But as my fingers graze the familiar shape of the vial, a strange pull tugs at my mind. It's almost like the throne itself is beckoning me to sit. I can feel the weight of its presence pressing against me.

It's a feeling I've only experienced a few times before—the kind of pressure that comes when you're standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that one wrong move could send you plummeting into an abyss.

But something in me refuses to sit. I can't. Not yet.

I circle the throne, scanning the surroundings. The walls are lined with strange runes carved deep into the stone, their meanings lost to time, but the aura they give off is unsettling. They pulse with a low, rhythmic hum.

My stomach twists, and I glance back at the throne again.

What am I supposed to do now?

I clench my fist, my mind running wild with possibilities. The temple is silent. But I'm not sure I can say the same for the throne. Something about this place doesn't sit right. It's almost as if the very air here is heavy with expectation, like it's waiting for me to make a decision.

I take a deep breath and step forward. A single movement. That's all it takes.

The ground beneath me shifts.

As if the entire room is a puzzle.

A twisted, sickening puzzle that only I can solve.

Then, the voice stops. The room stills. The pressure eases for a brief moment.

A strange glow rises from the cracks, illuminating the symbols carved into the stone floor. The runes pulse as if alive, guiding me, pulling me closer to the heart of the throne.

A series of shapes begins to emerge on the floor, etched into the stone, glowing faintly.

I squint, recognizing the pattern—this is it.

A puzzle.

The realization hits me like a sudden burst of energy.

I kneel down, my hand reaching for the first symbol. I press it with a gentle push, and the floor shifts. The light around me flickers as the throne reacts again, but this time, it's not in anger.

It's in… anticipation.

I press the next symbol, feeling the tension build as the ground shifts beneath me. The rumbling beneath the floor intensifies, but it's no longer threatening. Instead, it feels like something is awakening, like the puzzle is beginning to reveal its purpose.

With each press, the symbols move, the light grows stronger.

And then—

Click.

A loud sound echoes through the room. The ground stills. The walls stop shifting.

And in front of the throne, a book materializes, resting on a pedestal that wasn't there before.

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I stare at it.

The book. It's old. The cover is intricately designed with symbols that look familiar, but I can't place them.

What is this?

And what does it mean?

The answers will have to wait.

But I know one thing for sure: The throne's puzzle has been solved. The book is now mine to uncover.