Chapter 13: Hollow Judgment

The journey to the Hollow Throne was unlike any Raizen and his crew had undertaken before. Guided by the ancient map, now fused with Raizen's bloodline signature, they sailed beyond known seas — past the Edge Reefs, through the Mirror Wake, and into the Silence Expanse, where sound itself died and time seemed to fold inward.

There, buried in a ring of jagged black cliffs and mist-locked currents, they found it: a towering island carved from white stone and obsidian flame — the Crownspire, the final remnant of the First Era.

At its summit stood the Hollow Throne, encircled by ruined columns and chained stars, its base half-buried in a lake of still, silver water. No birds sang. No wind blew. It was as though the world itself held its breath.

Raizen approached slowly, his footsteps echoing through the ancient space. The throne was unlike any he'd imagined — not golden or jeweled, but plain, carved from stone that shimmered between light and shadow, hollow at its center, as if made to seat something more than a man.

And seated beside it, as if he had waited a thousand lifetimes, was Judicar Elyon — the Immortal Judge.

Clad in robes spun from the threads of time itself, Elyon's face was unreadable, eyes deep as eternity. His voice was not spoken but heard inside the soul.

"You come not only as heir," Elyon said, "but as a choice."

Raizen drew his blade instinctively, but Elyon did not move.

"I am not your enemy," the judge continued. "I am your reckoning."

The crew watched from below, unable to approach the final plateau. This trial was Raizen's alone.

Elyon stood and raised a hand. Before them, the Hollow Throne split into two visions — one of war, and one of peace.

In the vision of war, Raizen sat the throne. The world bowed, not out of fear, but hope. Kingdoms were united under a banner of fire and sky. Tyrants fell, and justice reigned. But behind Raizen's eyes was a weariness, a loneliness that cracked the soul.

In the vision of peace, the throne remained empty. The world rebuilt itself in fractured ways. Some nations found harmony, others did not. Raizen lived as a legend, a wanderer, untouched by crown or conquest. He had peace — but not victory.

"One path brings order through power," said Elyon. "The other brings freedom through uncertainty. You cannot walk both."

Raizen stared at the throne, heart thundering.

He thought of his crew — Zuri, Kaidan, Korra, those who had died, those who still believed. He thought of his father, of Vaelen, of the blood in his veins and the weight it carried. Of all the people still chained by lies, by history rewritten.

"Why give me this choice?" Raizen asked.

"Because only the hollow may choose," Elyon replied. "The throne reflects the soul that sits upon it. It magnifies what lies within. You are not here to take power… but to understand it."

Raizen stepped forward. The ground trembled.

He reached out — but did not sit.

"I don't want power," he said. "I want to break the wheel that forces this choice on every generation."

A silence followed, deeper than the grave.

Then Elyon smiled — the faintest curl of timeless lips.

"Then you may yet be worthy."

The throne vanished in a pulse of light.

In its place, a single key appeared, black and silver — the Keystone of Accord. It was not power. It was permission. The right to build a new path.

Raizen took the key.

Behind him, the mountain began to shift, ancient mechanisms awakening. The world would soon know that the heir had reached the Hollow Throne… and walked away.

But judgment had been passed.

And its echo would shake empires.

END OF THE CHAPTER13