The Masked King's Shadow

Not all kings are crowned in ceremony.

Some are crowned in silence.

And one—only when the mask chooses.

---

Back in Veinhold, Quinn froze mid-stride.

The air shifted. The light dimmed.

Not because of nightfall—because something ancient had stirred.

His eyes narrowed. He tilted his head slightly, listening with something deeper than hearing.

"Someone opened it," he muttered.

An aide at his side blinked. "Opened what, sir?"

Quinn didn't answer.

He vanished in a blur of shadow.

---

Beneath the Korvalis vault, Lyle stood motionless as the mask began to piece itself together.

Fragments of bone and obsidian drifted through the air, aligning like gravity was rewriting itself.

Muka's grip on her blade tightened. "Lyle, that thing isn't just reacting—it's choosing."

"I know."

The shard of crown embedded in his palm pulsed with heat. The Bone Claw buzzed with instinct.

> "You must decide now. Let it pass… or let it bond."

> "What happens if I bond with it?"

> "Then you carry his legacy. And all his enemies."

The shadows quivered.

> [Warning: Artifact Sync Detected – Mask of the Hollow King Initiating Interface]

The mask drifted toward Lyle's face.

He didn't run. He didn't raise a hand.

He breathed.

It hovered an inch from his eyes.

And then—

Slammed forward.

Muka shouted, lunging toward him, but a pulse of force threw her back across the chamber.

Darkness swallowed the room.

---

In the void, Lyle stood alone.

Not physically. Spiritually.

Before him loomed a throne—whole now—set on a lake of glass.

And seated on that throne… was himself.

Clad in crimson robes. Crown intact. Mask flawless.

The other Lyle smiled. "You wanted to protect. To grow. To fight for truth."

"Still do."

"But now you understand—truth alone doesn't win."

He rose.

Each step echoed through the glass.

"You'll have to lie. To lead. To sacrifice."

He reached out a hand.

Lyle didn't back away. He took it.

And when he did—

The Bone Claw flared.

The Codex screamed.

The throne shattered.

And the two Lyles became one.

---

Light returned.

The chamber groaned.

Muka crawled to her knees, watching in horror and awe as Lyle stood—cloaked in blood-threaded armor, the crown fragment fused fully at his brow, the mask half-etched into his face.

"Lyle?"

His eyes blinked. Then he smiled—his smile.

"It's still me."

"But not only you."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Footsteps echoed behind them.

Quinn emerged from the stairwell, eyes locked on Lyle.

He didn't draw his weapon. He didn't speak.

He just stared.

And then—

Nodded.

"You opened the vault," Quinn said quietly.

"I did."

"And you took the mask."

"I didn't want to. It… found me."

Quinn approached, inspecting the mask's edge. "It shouldn't exist anymore. I sealed it. Buried it."

"It still remembers."

Quinn exhaled. "Then it's begun."

Muka stood. "What's begun?"

"The second era of shadow." Quinn turned, cloak rippling. "And not all of it's on our side."