The stars burned faint over the ruins of Hal'kareth, a sunken citadel lost beneath centuries of coral and salt. The Ashen Gale floated off the reef's edge, tethered by silence and anticipation. Raizen and a small team had descended into the deep following the trail of the Sable Compass, now returned to them through blood and fire.
But what they found wasn't just a location — it was a legend carved into obsidian stone.
A mural. Ancient. Fused to the wall of a drowned sanctum.
A figure stood at the center of it: blade raised, a throne shattered beneath his feet, divine beings recoiling from the blast. Around the figure, the words were written in an archaic dialect, half-erased by time but clear enough to decipher.
"Here fell the Thronebreaker. Here rose the last free will."
Verrigan ran his fingers across the carved cracks. "This isn't myth. This is history."
Kato narrowed his eyes. "You telling me someone already destroyed the Hollow Throne?"
Raizen remained silent. Not in disbelief — but in deep recognition. Something about the warrior's stance, the storm behind his eyes, the way he stood alone. It wasn't just familiarity. It was resonance.
They spent hours in the sanctum, unlocking sealed chambers with bloodmarks from the Sable Compass. Inside, they uncovered scrolls, weapons, and a strange, crystalline shard glowing with cold fire. Raizen touched it — and the world blurred.
He stood in a vision — not a dream, but a memory.
Fire. Screaming skies. Gods battling with weapons that broke reality. And in the center of it all, the Throne: a spiraling seat of light and command, tethered to the will of the world itself.
And then him — the warrior.
No name. Just purpose.
The Thronebreaker didn't ascend to the seat.
He destroyed it.
With a blade forged of memory and grief, he cracked the Hollow Throne — ending the war between gods and mortals, but fracturing fate itself. The remnants of the throne's power scattered into seven shards — the same shards now guiding Raizen's journey.
Raizen staggered back into the present. The crystal shard in his hand pulsed once, then quieted.
Zuri caught him. "What did you see?"
He looked at the throne mural again, jaw tight. "I saw why the world is broken. Why they're trying to rebuild the throne."
Kato frowned. "To rule it?"
Raizen shook his head. "To prevent another Thronebreaker."
Later that night, the crew gathered on deck. Raizen told them everything — about the vision, the gods, the first destruction of the Hollow Throne. About the possibility that someone was trying to restore it to claim divine power.
"It's not just about rebellion anymore," he said. "It's about who gets to shape reality."
Zuri asked the question everyone else feared: "Could it be you? Are you… supposed to sit on it?"
Raizen looked at his hands. "No. I think I'm supposed to make sure no one ever does again."
The wind shifted. Distant thunder rolled across the horizon.
The legend of the Thronebreaker had returned — not as prophecy, but as warning. And now Raizen knew: the war wasn't just about power, justice, or vengeance.
It was about the very shape of the world.
And some thrones were never meant to rise again.
END OF THE CHAPTER8