When the Gods Fall, I Will Rise
Chapter 24: The Hollow Thrones
The desolate expanse of the Wastes of Mourning lay behind us, a barren testament to the sorrowful history of this forsaken land. Each step we took felt laden with the weight of lost memories, but what awaited us ahead was imbued with an altogether more profound sense of foreboding. An ominous stillness enveloped the air, pressing against my skin like an unwelcome warning, making each breath feel as though I were inhaling not air, but the very essence of dread. The terrain ahead undulated gently inward, as if beckoning us into a vast hollow plain where stone pillars jutted up from the ground like the skeletal fingers of some ancient titan, their cracked and weathered surfaces inscribed with runes so worn by time that they seemed to murmur their secrets directly into the marrow of my bones.
As we ventured into the heart of this desolate hollow plain, we discovered an ancient amphitheater, a monumental structure that appeared to have been hewn right out of the earth itself. Its crumbling stone tiers descended tragically into a yawning abyss, a colossal scar upon the landscape that defied the very laws of reason and nature. Here, the air felt significantly colder, laden with the metallic taste of iron, and as I inhaled, I could almost feel the faint sting of ash mingling with the stale oxygen filling my lungs.
Serenya's eyes scoured the horizon, and her silver hair caught the dim glow of fractured starlight, shimmering like a beacon amidst the despair. "The Hollow Thrones," she murmured, her voice a delicate weave of reverence and dread, as if she were uttering a forbidden incantation. "This is a council of dominion long abandoned. Here, the First Kings and the Pale Divinities once gathered when the world was still whole, before the cataclysm irrevocably tore their thrones from beneath them."
Her somber words triggered my own gaze to explore the architecture encircling the pit. Enormous thrones, each one uniquely carved from different stones, sat majestically upon raised plinths, their forms distinctly shaped, as if crafted specifically for rulers hailing from disparate realms of existence. One throne was jagged in appearance, wrought from obsidian shards that pulsed faintly with inner light, exuding an eerie warmth akin to a beating heart. Another, although faded with age, shimmered in an ethereal manner, its crystalline frame capturing the scant light and scattering fractured rainbows across the rubble-strewn ground. Still others appeared to be scorched by some ancient fire, eternally frozen in time, or entangled in petrified vines that snaked around their bases, each a wordless testament to the once-mighty powers that had governed the very fabric of creation itself.
Yet, despite their grandeur, none of these thrones were occupied. The silence that hung about them was heavier, more oppressive than any congregation of kings could ever muster.
An ember ignited within my chest, pulsing with restless agitation, its rhythm quickening as if it recognized this haunted place. My knees trembled unsteadily under the pressure of an unseen weight, and for a moment, I felt myself on the verge of faltering before I steadied myself, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "It's as though they're still observing us," I whispered, my voice cutting through the pervasive silence and cracking with barely restrained emotion.
Serenya turned to me, her gaze piercing yet thoughtful. "They are indeed," she replied, her conviction unwavering. "Even in their lack of flesh and physical form, even after their dominion has been irrevocably shattered, the essence of those rulers remains. The Hollow Thrones were never meant to decay; they were designed to endure, patiently awaiting a time when someone might dare to intrude upon this sacred ground, a domain where even the ancient gods hesitate to tread."
A low tremor reverberated through the amphitheater, subtle yet potent enough to create ripples of unease along the loose stones strewn beneath our feet. I swallowed hard, fixing my gaze upon the abyss at the center of the thrones. From its fathomless depths came an unsettling hollow resonance, akin to the sighs of a thousand voices melding together, their tones woven with sorrow, fury, and an overwhelming sense of longing.
Compelled by an instinct I could not name, I edged closer to the nearest throne, the crystalline one whose fractured light refracted brilliantly across the skin of my outstretched hand. As my fingers brushed against the cold surface, a wave of energy surged through me, and in that fleeting instant, my vision was violently torn away.
I found myself thrust into a surreal court illuminated by blazing light, encircled by radiant figures whose features were concealed by veils woven from fire and shadow. Before me, the crystalline throne stood immaculate, no longer fractured, and it was occupied by a sovereign whose very presence distorted the air around them with palpable authority. Their voice resonated through the very fabric of reality, shaking the ground beneath me as they addressed the assembly:
"We swore an oath to safeguard the marrow of the world, yet in our hubris, we consumed it for ourselves. Now we are kings without realms, gods shorn of altars. And in the hour of our downfall, who among you shall inherit our ashes?"
The vision shattered as swiftly as it came, leaving me reeling, my hand still trembling against the cold stone of the empty throne. I gasped for breath, sweat cascading down my brow as the ember nestled within my chest blazed hotter than it ever had before, igniting a desire I could scarcely understand or contain.
Serenya steadied me with a reassuring grip, her palm firm and unyielding upon my shoulder. "You've touched their memory," she stated, her voice devoid of any surprise, carrying instead a tone that resonated with inevitability, as if she had anticipated this moment long before it unfolded. "The Thrones test those who dare come before them. They seek to ascertain who has the audacity to claim the right to tread upon the very ground where the divine once took their seats."
Her haunting words ignited a fierce spark within me, not merely fear, but a profound understanding of the tremendous weight pressing down against my soul, like an iron mantle that refused to be shrugged off. "They are waiting for someone to respond to them," I murmured, the recollection of the sovereign's final, haunting words washing over me again. "Someone to inherit not only their glory but quite possibly their ruin, the darkness that lurked in the shadows of their exalted legacies."
As I spoke, I noticed a subtle shift in Serenya; her lips curved into a faint, fleeting smile, yet her eyes bore no trace of joy, only a deep well of understanding and perhaps a hint of sorrow. "Perhaps that is precisely why the ember chose you," she replied, her voice now tinged with an otherworldly wisdom. "Not because you were destined to lead or to reign with an iron fist, but rather because you possess the difficult task of determining whether the world is deserving of new thrones at all."
Just then, the ground trembled violently beneath us once more, a quaking force that felt as though the very amphitheater had come alive, responding to her words with an almost feral urgency and demanding an answer that lingered in the air between us. The Hollow Thrones encircled us, ancient and foreboding, their stone forms silent yet suffocating with scrutiny, each seemingly leaning forward to listen.
I clenched my fists tightly, my eyes boring into the abyss at the heart of the amphitheater, a dark void where the voices of the past still whispered their eternal lamentations. My chest blazed with the ember's fervent heat, pushing against the suffocating silence that enveloped us, resonating in defiant protest against the weight of their forgotten legacies.
"I will not sit idly by and inherit their ashes," I asserted firmly, my voice growing in strength and conviction, echoing through the hollow plain as if it were the very air itself that returned my proclamation. "If the gods fell because they feared their own power, then I refuse to rise merely to preserve their thrones, but rather to shatter the cycle that has bound their legacies to the past."
In that monumental moment, a stillness fell over us, a palpable silence that wrapped around us like a veil. For the first time since entering the Hollow Thrones, the whispers of the past ceased their incessant murmurings. The air grew unbearably still, heavy with anticipation, and then, from the very depths of the abyss, a single, resonant note emerged, pure and unwavering, as if the land itself had acknowledged the truth of my vow and set it into the very fabric of reality.
Serenya's eyes sparkled with an emotion that was difficult to decipher, a complex blend of pride, hope, and the flickering shadows of foreboding. "Then the Thrones have heard you," she pronounced softly, almost reverently. "And they will not forget what you have proclaimed."
As we turned away from the amphitheater, leaving the imposing presence of the Hollow Thrones behind us, I felt their unseen gaze etched upon my back like an indelible mark. The ember within me pulsated with an intensity greater than ever before, as if the very Thrones had branded my soul, igniting a fire within me that would not be easily extinguished.
Looking up, I glimpsed the fractured sky above, which groaned under a heavy burden, as a fresh wound tore itself open among the stars, bleeding firelight into the consuming void of night. This world was changing, its very essence shifting beneath our feet, and with every step I took forward, I knew that the buried truths of the gods would rise to greet me, revealing secrets long hidden and dangers yet unimagined.
To be continued…