The Awakening of the Sun’s Heir

The night air pulsed with unseen energy. Aina could feel it—the echoes of power that once belonged to her, now stirring in the depths of her soul.

Her knees buckled slightly, but she steadied herself. The visions of the past still lingered at the edges of her mind, whispering forgotten truths. She had once ruled. She had once wielded power beyond imagination.

And now, she would reclaim it.

Tok Rimau and Azriel stood at her side, their gazes locked onto the massive stone doors before them. The Gates of the Forgotten Throne. The air around them vibrated, heavy with ancient energy, as if the ruins themselves were alive and waiting.

"Only the true heir may enter," Tok Rimau muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aina stepped forward. The Kerambit Bulan in her grasp pulsed with warmth, recognizing the call of its master. She raised her hand, pressing her palm against the weathered stone.

The moment her skin met the cold surface—the earth trembled.

Golden symbols ignited across the ruins, glowing like embers in the darkness. A deep rumbling filled the air as the gates began to part, revealing a vast chamber within. At its center stood an altar, bathed in golden light.

And on that altar—a crown.

Aina's breath caught in her throat. It was more than just an artifact. It was a piece of her past, a fragment of her very soul.

The Nameless King's voice echoed in her mind: "You have come far, but the past does not let go so easily."

Suddenly, the chamber darkened. Shadows slithered across the stone, merging into a towering figure at the far end of the hall.

Rahim Tempurung stepped forward, his mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light. His lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"You're too late, Aina Batrisya."

Before she could react, the shadows lashed out.