"The greatest foe of a king is not war, it's not treachery, it's not even death. It's the part of himself who walked the darker road."
Veyrith, Whispering Guide of the Void
The throne beneath Azeroth was silent now not in rest, but in watching.
He had claimed it.
And in so doing, he had awakened something no king had ever had the courage to disturb:
The Mirror of the Forgotten Self.
It began with a single crack in the Void concealed from all but him. The others remained on their knees, still whispering his name in awe. But Azeroth sensed the tug. like a string connected to his soul.
Something was beckoning him.
Not from above.
Not from the stars.
But from beneath the throne.
That evening, while night was black and even gods did not venture to speak, Azeroth went alone to the center of the throne.
The steps before him were not steps of stone. They were made of choices every choice that he had not allowed himself, every instant when he could have given himself over to rage, fear, or despair.
Now, they formed a descent.
The Path of the Forgotten King.
Each step whispered.
You could have killed the Chancellor without mercy.
You could have let your sister die and got there quicker.
You could have been a god.
Azeroth kept walking.
He arrived at a room. Mirror-smooth. No ceiling, no walls only a suspended shard, throbbing with voidlight, over a pool of black fluid.
And then he stepped forward.
The pool rippled.
And out of it there grew…
Himself.
However, not a reflection per se.
This Azeroth had no cloak. No crown.
His right arm had blended into Tenebrum itself, the blade pulsating like a limb. His body was charged with untamed runes, etched deep into flesh. His smile was colder than death.
His violet-colored eyes gleamed his eyes, not with power, but hunger.
"Ah," the thought replied. "So you were the 'merciful king.'"
Azeroth narrowed his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"I am you, if you had chosen to slay Sylra for power. If you had taken the throne by force. If you had yielded to the call of the Void unwillingly."
"I would never."
"You almost did."
The Reflection raised her hand.
The room disappeared.
[Trial of the Self: In the Mirror]
Azeroth was now in a blazing Etherya.
But in this one, it wasn't destroyed by the Void…
It was conquered by himself.
There were massive statues of himself along the streets. Voidspawn knelt at his feet. Stars were darkened to illuminate his throne room. And in the center…
Queen Sylra.
Chained by chains of light. Her crown had been shattered. Her spirit, broken.
Azeroth turned away, fists clenched.
This is a falsehood," he growled.
The Reflection stood next to him, arms folded.
No. This is what happens when mercy is weakness. If your enemies are not spared — they are wiped out. This is the God-King Path. And don't act like it doesn't call to you.
Azeroth moved ahead. "And what do you do when you rule by fear?
The smile was reflected, but not in his eyes.
You lose everything. But at least you win.
Suddenly, the reflection attacked.
Tenebrum fused with voidlight carved toward Azeroth's heart. He blocked just in time but the weight of the strike sent him flying.
This was not a test.
That was an execution.
The fight was brutal.
Sword vs. sword.
Void against Void.
Two kings. One throne.
Every time Azeroth tried to overtake his reflection in power, he lost because the reflection did not falter. It was boundless. Without scruples. There was only triumph.
Azeroth wept.
His armor cracked.
His thoughts fluctuated.
He heard voices familiar ones:
"Give in."
"Rule through fear."
"Why say nothing?"
"Release who you used to be."
And then…
He heard a different voice.
One he hadn't heard since last evening Etherya fell.
His mother's.
"Azeroth… do not fight darkness with darkness. You are the space between stars. You are not light. Not shadow. But choice."
That word resonated. Choice.
Azeroth remained, wounded but alive.
He gazed at his face.
"I'm not here to destroy you."
Oh? Well, then prepare to die.
No, Azeroth whispered.
"I am here to welcome you."
The reflection froze.
"What."
"You are me. You are what I could have been.
You are all the errors, all the temptations, all the failures that I almost chose."
Azeroth dropped his sword.
"And I forgive you."
The throne above pulsed.
The chamber shattered.
The reflection screamed not with pain. In release.
It dissolved not into death, but into Azeroth's chest, becoming one with him. Not as an enemy. But as a truth.
Back in the Academy
The kings woke up to an avalanche of unfiltered voidlight immersing the corridors. The stars went quiet for the first time in millennia. The throne stopped bleeding.
And in the midst of the room, Azeroth rose.
But now, with a sigil on his chest the Sigil of Duality.
Light and Void.
Mercy and Wrath.
Past and Future.
All balanced in one soul.
Veyrith looked on in awe.
"You embraced your mirror," he whispered.
"You did something no king in the history of the academy has ever done." Azeroth gazed at him serenely. Because I'm not here to wear a crown," he said. "I'm here to make sure that no one else will have to wear it again." Far, far beyond the familiar Void The masked man in the temple of time broke a mirror. "Balance has been restored… damn him." Behind him, another figure emerged out of the shadows, covered in the hides of timelines.
Should we proceed into the next stage? The masked one nodded.
Yes. It is time to release the Three Void Titans.