They didn't speak until the sky returned above their heads.
As Kaelen and Elaine emerged from the stone maw of the underground sanctum, the crisp night air hit them like a wave. Cold. Clean. Real. The suffocating weight of buried centuries slowly lifted from their shoulders.
Elaine was the first to breathe deeply—knees trembling, hair clinging to her forehead, her cloak damp with the sweat of hidden truths. She dropped to one knee, gripping the mossy earth as if to assure herself the world above still existed.
Kaelen stood beside her in silence, unmoving.
His eyes, however, were wide open—focused not on the trees, the stars, or even Elaine—but on something far beyond the present. Something still echoing in the dark.
The image of the third throne—black stone, carved with screaming faces, surrounded by roots that bled red light—would not leave his mind. Nor would the feeling of its pull, that slow and seductive whisper, crawling through his blood like a forgotten lullaby.
"I shouldn't have touched it," he said, voice hoarse.
Elaine looked up, catching her breath. "You didn't have a choice. The seal responded to your blood, Kaelen. That throne… it was waiting for you."
He shook his head. "Or for something inside me."
They were in a clearing now, ringed with trees too ancient to name. Between the roots, half-swallowed by time, stood a crumbling stone monolith. It bore no writing—only a sigil: a broken crown, wrapped in chains of thorns.
Kaelen walked toward it as if drawn by instinct. His fingers brushed the moss-covered carving.
"I've seen this before," he murmured. "On the stone tablets beneath Blackmoor. On the door in Avaris Temple. Always hidden. Always buried."
Elaine joined him. Her expression was tight with thought. "It's the mark of the Forgotten Bloodline, isn't it? The one before the current dynasty."
Kaelen nodded. "The dynasty they erased. But something survived. Something powerful enough to be feared by kings."
He fell silent. A tension hung in the air, charged like the calm before a storm.
And then—
"So. You've finally found it."
The voice cut through the silence like a blade. Calm, but unmistakably armed.
Kaelen and Elaine turned simultaneously—hands going to weapons.
But the figure who stepped from the shadows wasn't an enemy.
It was Liraine.
Cloaked in twilight, her expression unreadable, she moved like someone who had been waiting far too long for truth to catch up.
"You knew?" Elaine demanded, stepping forward.
Liraine inclined her head. "Not everything. But enough. The Third Throne was more than myth. Our Order believed it sealed away something beyond any royal claim—something no crown should command."
Kaelen's voice was hard. "What was it?"
Liraine's gaze flicked toward the sigil on the stone.
"Not what. Who."
Kaelen waited.
Liraine's eyes darkened. "The Hollow King."
Elaine stiffened. "That name again…"
Liraine nodded. "The last ruler of the Forgotten Line. The one who surrendered his soul for power eternal. They say he bound his heart to the land itself—made his will a curse on the bloodline that followed. The usurpers."
"The royal family now," Kaelen whispered.
"No," Liraine corrected. "Your family now."
Kaelen's heart clenched. He had always felt apart from the palace, from the mask of nobility. But to learn he was part of something even older, darker—something sealed away for the world's safety...
He looked up. "Why me?"
"Because you're not one of them," Liraine said. "Not truly. Your blood isn't pure royal. It's older. The blood of the Hollow King runs in your veins—diluted, perhaps, but it was enough to wake the seal."
Elaine took a step closer. "You mean… Kaelen's the heir?"
"No," Liraine replied. "He's the reminder."
Kaelen's voice came low. "Of what?"
Liraine turned away, gesturing for them to follow. "Come. There's something else you must see. The throne was only the beginning."
They followed her in silence, deeper into the woods, past trees that whispered in languages older than words. The moon guided them, casting silver upon stone and branch.
Eventually, they reached a cave—its mouth ringed in pale blue crystals, humming faintly with unseen energy.
"The Crown's Last Secret lies within," Liraine said, not turning.
Kaelen stepped forward first.
The cave was narrow, winding, more a crevice than a tunnel. But as they pressed on, the stone gave way to carvings—walls etched with battles, betrayals, and a royal figure draped in shadow. At the end of the passage was a chamber no larger than a shrine.
And in its center stood an altar.
Upon it, a crown.
Not gold. Not iron. Not even metal. It looked grown, not forged—made of bone-white branches and silver veins of light. It pulsed with a rhythm that matched Kaelen's heartbeat.
Elaine drew in a sharp breath. "Is that…?"
Liraine stepped beside her. "The First Crown. Not worn. Not claimed. Placed here to guard against the rise of the Hollow King again."
Kaelen approached slowly, his breath shallow. "Then why does it call to me?"
"Because it remembers you," Liraine said.
"Or what I could become," he murmured.
A vision surged in his mind—flames over cities, skies torn by chains of light, and a throne rising not from stone, but from memory.
He recoiled, but the vision lingered.
Elaine grabbed his arm. "Kaelen. You're still you."
He shook his head. "I'm not sure anymore."
Liraine stepped closer. "This is your choice. The throne, the crown—they're echoes. They only answer when claimed. But if you walk away, they sleep."
Kaelen stared at the First Crown.
Then turned away.
"No," he said. "I'll carry the truth. But I won't wear it."
Liraine gave the smallest of nods. "Then perhaps the world has a chance."
As they left the cave, the wind stirred again, cold and sharp.
But this time, it carried a voice.
"You cannot bury what was never dead."
Kaelen froze.
Elaine heard it too—her hand tightening on her blade.
Behind them, the First Crown pulsed once.
Like a breath.
Like the beginning of something too ancient to name.