Dream Sequence – The Throne That Waits

Crownless King: The Heir of the Forgotten Throne

Dream Sequence – The Throne That Waits

Somewhere suspended in the delicate balance between memory and the consuming essence of fire, within the labyrinthine depths of Kael's slumbering consciousness…

It began in profound silence.

Not a serene peace.

Not the comforting cloak of stillness that often envelopes a weary soul.

No, it was an eerie silence.

The kind that descends like a heavy fog after the cacophony of screams fades into nothingness, lingering just before the dead begin to whisper their haunting secrets.

Kael found himself standing at the edge of an impossible cliff—a precipice that didn't belong in any known realm. This obsidian shelf jutted defiantly out into a sky, one that spilled forth an unsettling array of black stars, glowing like distant eyes, and streaks of brutal lightning, crackling with the echoes of forgotten names lost to time.

Beneath him lay:

A shattered empire, its remnants telling tales of glory turned desolation.

Cities ablaze, with flames licking at the night; smoke curling into the dark heavens.

Towers, enduring yet frozen in their grandeur, as if caught in an endless winter.

Graves of the crownless, a testament to noble blood that had perished without honor.

And directly before him…

A throne.

A grotesque creation fashioned from the bones of the vanquished, woven from shattered vows and the twisted remnants of melted steel. Promises unfulfilled hung in the air like a miasma, heavy and suffocating. The throne pulsed with a life of its own—an unsettling rhythm that was not his own, yet somehow responded as if it were attuned to the very essence of his breath.

Hovering just above this sinister seat of power was the Crown.

Silent, observing, all-seeing.

Waiting.

"Is this the fate that I am destined to become?" Kael murmured into the oppressive stillness.

No reply met his ears.

But then, from the swirling smoke, a form began to coalesce.

A woman emerged from the haze.

Her silver eyes glinted like shards of ice. Her cloak hung in tatters around her, almost as if it were woven from shadows themselves. At her back was a sword, an embodiment of memory-fueled fire, its blade shimmering ominously in the dim light.

She was not Seris.

She was not Elira.

No, she was someone else entirely.

Someone Kael had yet to encounter.

Yet, someone whose path would inevitably twist with his own.

She made her way toward him, traversing the jagged remnants of the shattered ridge. Her voice resonated like distant thunder, a soft rumble laced with profound sorrow.

"You have already made your choice."

"This is what it evolves into."

"The world decimates itself. You endure. Alone."

Kael's fists clenched tightly at his sides, muscles taut with defiance.

"No. That's not the destiny I desire."

She regarded him with a slight tilt of her head.

"Desire holds no power over destiny."

"It only follows those willing to sacrifice."

Then, as if the heavens themselves were reacting, the sky fractured.

From its shards tumbled names.

Real names.

Tarin, laughter now nothing more than a fading ember amidst the ash.

Seris, solitary beneath a sky torn asunder.

Elira, forced onto her knees before the Twelve, whose faces remained impassive.

His mother.

The echo of his younger self, those innocent days of yore.

All of them plummeting toward the abyss like stars cast away from their celestial homes.

Kael erupted into a primal scream.

"I refuse to let it conclude like this!"

In response, the Crown ignited in a blaze of fury and light.

Yet, paradoxically, the throne remained resolute, unyielding.

Then—

A voice broke through the chaos behind him.

Familiar.

Weathered.

Alive.

"Kael."

He turned, almost disbelieving.

It was Seris.

Not enshrined in bloodshed.

Not bereft of hope.

Not encased in armor.

Just her.

Eyes softer than he remembered.

Her voice gentler, a whisper laced with tenderness.

"You have not yet lost."

She stepped beside him, a comforting presence in the nightmare, and pointed toward the throne that loomed ominously.

"That is not your inevitable fate."

"It serves as your warning."

Kael redirected his gaze toward the flames that danced before him, wild and untamed.

And this time, through the veils of chaos and destruction, he began to see the flickering outline of a second path.

The same fire burned.

The same war raged on.

But here, he was not alone.

The throne remained, yes.

Yet, someone else occupied the space beside it. Someone, not kneeling in submission.

Someone who stood resolutely, watching the stars triumphantly climb back into the sky.

With a whisper laced with hope, Kael asked, "How do I find my way to that future?"

Seris locked her gaze with his, an intense connection transcending the surreal landscape around them.

"By letting go of everything except the essence of who you are."

And then—

Kael jolted awake.

Breath sharp and ragged in his lungs. Skin slick with perspiration. The First Flame still hummed an eerie tune at his back, its warmth contrasting sharply with the cold fear that had gripped him.

Beside him, Tarin stirred within the embrace of the campfire's weak light.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Kael shook his head slowly, as if the weight of his thoughts compelled him.

"No."

"The most harrowing part is—"

"It wasn't just a dream."

-End Of Side Story-