Chapter 27 – The Monarch’s Throne

The doors stood open before them.

No locks. No barriers.

Just darkness.

Riven exhaled slowly, his fingers still trembling from the fight. Vex, standing beside him, kept his gun raised even though they both knew it wouldn't do much. The Guardian was gone, but the crack in its mask still lingered in Riven's mind.

Something had changed.

Something had let them through.

"We going in or just standing here waiting to get erased?" Vex muttered.

Riven didn't answer. He just stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the Monarch's domain.

---

The Endless Hall

The moment they stepped inside, the world shifted.

No sound. No air. Just… emptiness.

They weren't in a normal tower. They weren't anywhere.

The hall stretched out infinitely, vanishing into a void of swirling colors. The walls were lined with mirrors—tall, warped, their glass rippling like liquid. Each one reflected a different version of reality.

Riven saw himself in the nearest mirror.

But it wasn't him.

It was a Riven who had never fallen. A Riven who had won. His armor gleamed, unbroken. His eyes weren't weary, weren't shadowed by failure.

And beside him—his team.

People who should have been gone.

Nova. Vera. Others. Whole. Alive.

"This isn't real," he whispered.

The reflection turned to face him.

And smiled.

A deep, primal dread coiled in Riven's chest.

That wasn't a reflection.

It was watching him.

---

The Mirrors Speak

Vex walked ahead, barely glancing at the reflections.

"Creepy as hell, but we don't have time for sightseeing."

Riven forced himself to look away. The mirrors lined the entire hall, but something about them was wrong.

Then—they spoke.

"You were never meant to be."

The voices came from all around them, overlapping in whispers.

"You are the flaw."

"You are the mistake."

Vex spun, raising his gun, but there was nothing to shoot. The reflections remained frozen. Watching.

Riven clenched his fists. The Monarch was playing with them.

Trying to break them down before they even reached the throne.

"Ignore it," he muttered. "Keep moving."

But the whispers didn't stop.

And the farther they walked, the more distorted the reflections became.

Their own faces… melting. Twisting. Becoming something else.

Something hungry.

---

The Throne Room

The hall ended abruptly.

One moment, they were walking through the infinite corridor.

The next—they were standing in the heart of the Monarch's domain.

A vast, circular chamber stretched before them. At its center—the Throne.

It was carved from something impossible.

Not stone. Not metal. Not anything that should exist.

It pulsed like a living thing, shifting, flickering between forms. Sometimes it looked like a grand seat of power. Other times—an open wound in reality itself.

And sitting upon it…

Was no one.

The throne was empty.

But they weren't alone.

At the base of the throne, something stirred.

A shape—a shadow that wasn't a shadow.

It rose, slow and deliberate, peeling itself from the floor like it had been waiting.

And then—it turned to face them.

Riven felt his entire body go cold.

Because standing before them was…

Himself.

---

The Hollow King

It wasn't a reflection.

It wasn't a trick of the mirrors.

This was Riven.

But not Riven.

This version was taller, darker—warped. His armor was twisted, adorned with the same shifting patterns as the throne. His face was the same but wrong.

Empty.

Void-black eyes locked onto him, studying him with something that wasn't curiosity—but recognition.

The Hollow Monarch had taken many forms.

Now—it had taken his.

It spoke.

"You have come far."

The voice wasn't Riven's. It wasn't anything's. It was a sound that wasn't meant to be heard.

Vex tensed beside him. "Nope. Nope. Absolutely not."

Riven barely heard him.

His hollowed reflection stepped forward.

"I have waited for you."

---

The Truth Revealed

The Monarch—his double—lifted a hand. The air broke around him, splitting like glass.

Images spilled forth.

Not memories.

Timelines.

Riven saw a thousand different versions of himself.

A Riven who had died in the first battle.

A Riven who had joined the enemy.

A Riven who had never existed at all.

The Monarch gestured, and the visions collapsed.

"Do you understand?" it asked.

Riven's breath was shaky.

"Understand what?"

The Monarch tilted its head, its empty gaze staring through him.

"You are the last. The final strand in the weave. The only one who remains."

Riven's heart pounded.

"The last what?"

"The last Sentinel."

Silence.

Cold, deafening silence.

Vex muttered a curse. "Okay. That's—nope. Not good."

The Monarch stepped closer.

"You have seen the unraveling. You have felt the Hollow's pull. You know what is coming."

Riven gritted his teeth. "Then stop it."

The Monarch paused. Then—it smiled.

And Riven finally understood.

The Monarch wasn't just erasing heroes.

It was waiting.

Waiting for the last one to break.

Waiting for him.