The universe trembled — not from war, but from uncertainty.
In the span of days, countless kingdoms, gods, and clans had all felt it:
A ripple with no source.
A presence with no name.
An event so great that even the threads of fate refused to weave it.
So they did what they had not done in over two thousand years.
They gathered.
Not on land.
Not in sea.
Not in any known realm.
But in the Center of the Universe — where no crown ruled, and no domain reached.
There stood a floating temple older than the stars themselves, untouched since the First Dawn. A circular hall awaited within — vast and hollow, built of silver and black stone. Thirteen great thrones encircled the chamber, each veiled in faint magic. Some were ancient and cracked, others gleamed with new light, waiting.
This was the Throned Chamber — the place where the Umbral Blades convened.
And now, after millennia, it was awakening once more.
There were no servants here. No guards. No armies.
Only the hum of creation, and the sound of footsteps as the first of the rulers appeared through shimmering portals.
The chamber floor rippled like water as the student who had conjured the meeting appeared at the center. A young man — robed in grey and white — his eyes aglow with symbols that shifted like constellations. He stood straight, calm, his hands behind his back.
"By the decree of the unseen seal," he said softly, his voice echoing in the vastness, "the Umbral Blades will gather once more. Each ruler may bring two attendants. No more."
One by one, the air shimmered — and the rulers began to arrive.
First came a storm of frost and wind. The air froze solid. Crystals danced like snow.
The first name left the student's lips.
"Kaelthys — the Warden of Ice."
From the light stepped a man in white-blue armor, silver hair trailing behind him. Frost spread beneath his boots as he walked, the temperature dropping with each step.
Two figures followed — one cloaked in deep blue, the other a young man with silver hair and quiet eyes, his presence calm yet sharp as glass.
Kaelthys gave a nod, his voice soft as winter. "The north stands ready."
A throne of ice rose before him, and he sat.
Moments later, shadows stirred. The temperature rose. The sound of growling wind filled the chamber.
"Arvax — the King of Beasts."
A massive figure entered, draped in pelts and chains, golden eyes burning like suns. Two beastkin followed behind him, silent and wary. The air trembled with restrained power.
The King of Beasts gave a feral grin, showing fangs. "Still feels too quiet in here." He dropped into his seat, clawed hand resting lazily on his chin.
Then, emerald light flooded the chamber. The scent of lilies filled the air.
"Elaria Veythar — the Queen of Poison, Sovereign of the Emerald Courts."
The doors opened, and she stepped through as if the world bent around her. Her dark-green gown shimmered with veins of glowing light. Each step left traces of living energy, her eyes cold and luminous.
Two attendants followed — their faces covered, their bodies faintly transparent from years under her aura.
The student bowed slightly. "Welcome, Your Grace."
Elaria smiled faintly. "Such formality. How quaint."
She walked to her throne, and the vines carved into the stone began to move, sprouting flowers and coiling protectively around her. The hall seemed to breathe with her.
The King of Beasts smirked. "Still dramatic, I see."
"Still breathing, I see," she replied sweetly without turning to him.
The student hesitated, then continued. "Next — Tharos, Lord of Lightning."
A blinding flash cracked the chamber. Lightning arced across the floor, reforming into a man with golden hair and sharp blue eyes. Sparks danced across his cloak, and two armored figures appeared behind him, each radiating static energy.
Tharos crossed his arms impatiently. "Let's skip the ceremony. Call the rest."
"Veynar — the Stormlord."
The air itself rumbled. Thunder echoed as another figure emerged, tall and grim, wrapped in swirling mist. His two attendants trailed lightning like falling rain.
"God of Chains — Zerathul."
Chains sang like bells as they appeared — thousands of them, wrapping and unwrapping around a man's frame. His eyes were pure white, and each movement rang with divine weight. Two cloaked followers held scrolls of law in silence behind him.
"The King of Dragons — Kael'reth."
The floor trembled. A wave of heat and power swept through as a man with crimson eyes and scales across his arms entered. His wings shimmered faintly before vanishing. Two draconic warriors followed, heads bowed.
"The King of Angels — Serathion."
A blinding radiance filled the hall. Feathers of gold and white drifted as the angelic ruler descended in calm, his presence holy yet distant. Two seraphs followed, their halos dimmed in reverence.
"The Queen of Spirits — Elara."
She walked like moonlight. Her form flickered between reality and dream, her two spirit attendants silent and barely visible.
"The King of Sea — Nerion."
The sound of rushing water echoed. Salt mist filled the air as the ocean's ruler appeared, armored in coral and pearls, his steps leaving ripples in the floor.
"The Sovereign of Shadows — Erevos."
The light vanished. For a breath, all torches died. Then, from the dark, a figure stepped out — cloaked in silence, his eyes faintly violet. Two phantom-like guards appeared beside him, fading in and out of sight.
And then — the final name.
"Aurelia — the Aurora Sentinel."
Radiance poured from the portal. Colors beyond mortal sight filled the hall.
Aurelia walked in calm grace, wearing a gown woven from dawn and starlight. Behind her followed two radiant figures, carrying a staff marked with ancient runes.
Every throne now was filled.
Every ruler had arrived.
The student at the center raised his voice, trembling slightly.
"I will now announce those gathered — members of the Umbral Blades who have answered the call."
He read each name again, his voice echoing through the chamber.
When the final name left his lips, the great doors of the chamber opened once more.
Cold wind rushed in.
A new presence entered — older than the hall itself.
All thirteen rulers turned. None spoke.
The student froze mid-step, his breath catching as he recognized the silhouette.
Elder Solarin walked into the light, his staff tapping against the marble. His expression was calm, his eyes older than time.
Even the God of Chains bowed his head.
"Thirteen thrones," Solarin said quietly. "Yet only eight souls matter now."
His voice echoed across the hall. "You all felt it. The shiver in the stars. The breath without fate. Eight children scattered across the worlds — born not to destiny, but beyond it."
The rulers listened, silent and unmoving.
"They will not follow your rules," Solarin continued. "They will not kneel to your crowns. And they will not be found… unless they allow it."
The King of Angels stepped forward. "You speak of prophecy?"
Solarin shook his head slowly. "No. I speak of its death."
The hall fell into silence heavier than eternity.
Then Elder Solarin looked upon the thrones one last time and whispered:
"You did not lose control. You never had it."
He turned, walked to one of the empty seats along the outer circle, and sat quietly — watching.
And for the first time in two thousand years, the thrones were not the only ones observing.
The world itself was listening.
End of Chapter 4 – The Gathering of Thrones