The throne hall was no longer a hall—it was a void. Shadows poured like a living tide, devouring marble, swallowing flame. The once-proud banners disintegrated into ash, and the air burned with cold so sharp it cut like glass.
The creature unfurled itself from the black smoke—a towering silhouette of hunger given form, its limbs stretching like broken spires, its face an abyss without features. Only its eyes burned, pale and hollow, endless pits of hunger that pinned Isabella where she stood.
> "Breaker of chains," the voice whispered—not from its mouth, but from everywhere. "Bearer of blood. Come."
Alexander planted himself between her and the creature, blade drawn, his stance a fortress of muscle and will."Over my dead body."
The shadow paused—as if amused. Then it moved.
---
The Battle of Ash and Light
The first strike came like a storm. A tendril of blackness lashed toward Alexander, splitting the floor like paper. He met it head-on, steel clashing against smoke—but the blade flared white as ancient runes lit along its edge. The sword screamed as it cut, cleaving darkness that bled frost and flame at once.
The impact hurled him backward, smashing him against a shattered column. Blood slicked his lip, but he pushed up, eyes blazing with something feral.
"Isabella—run!"
But she didn't. Couldn't. The shadows coiled around her feet, cold tendrils licking up her legs like chains of night. She raised her hands, summoning fire sigils that erupted into burning arcs—flames that roared like suns, scorching through the black mist.
The creature shrieked, a sound that cracked stone and shattered glass—but it didn't retreat. It grew.
---
The Summoning Deepens
"Alexander!" Isabella's scream tore through the chaos as the crown spun wildly above them, shards orbiting like blades. Each pulse of light tore another scar in reality, and through those cracks… another voice slipped through.
Lower. Colder. Older."The first gate stands open. The second waits."
And then, the floor split wide, yawning into a chasm of black fire. From its depths, chains of shadow shot upward, coiling around Isabella's arms like vipers. She fought—sigils blazing—but the pull was relentless.
Alexander lunged, his blade carving through tendrils, his roar shaking the hall. He seized her wrist, his grip iron, veins bulging with effort. "I've got you! I'm not letting go!"
Her breath broke in sobs, her magic flaring wildly, scorching his skin—but even through the agony, he held on.
"Alexander," she whispered, voice breaking as the pull grew stronger, "if I go… don't follow."
His eyes burned with fury—and something deeper. "Over my ashes."
---
The Fall
The shadows surged in one final wave, ripping Isabella from his grasp. She screamed his name as the chasm swallowed her whole, dragging her down into a world that reeked of fire and endless night.
Alexander hit the ground hard, the echo of her voice clawing at his chest. The crown crashed beside him, pulsing like a beating heart.
And the voice returned—soft, triumphant, cruel.
> "One gate opens. Six remain. Let the game begin."
The darkness snapped shut.
Isabella was gone.