> "Not all thrones fall.
Some simply lie.
And in that lie, they survive longer than truth ever dared to."
---
🌌 Above the Cracked Heavens – The Throne That Pretends
Of the Nine Thrones, six were shattered or silent.
The Seventh still gleamed.
It shone with gold and holy fire.
But its light was false.
It had not survived because it was strong.
It had not endured because it was righteous.
It remained because it pretended to fall, long ago—
And rewrote itself into legend.
The gods called it the Throne of Law.
But once, before Astraeva vanished, it had a different name.
The Throne of Deceit.
---
🜃 Ashmarch – The Morning of the March
Aralyndra stood beneath a fractured sky.
Saelira was beside her, humming softly, the Fragment in her palms now grown warm and alive.
Karna entered the command tent, eyes dark, jaw clenched.
He threw a scroll onto the table.
The seal bore the mark of the Serpent Judge.
> "An alliance?" Aralyndra asked.
Karna didn't answer immediately. His eyes were on Saelira.
> "Not an alliance," he finally said. "A trap."
He unrolled the scroll, revealing its cursed scripture. Words that shimmered too perfectly. Sentences that bent around truth like a noose.
> "The Seventh Throne speaks through this," he said. "And it lies."
---
🔥 The Memory Saelira Unlocked
That night, Saelira sat by the flame, the Fragment humming like a heartbeat in her hands.
She closed her eyes—
And remembered.
Not her own past. But one buried inside her blood. One passed from Astraeva.
She saw a throne of gold and light.
And beneath it, chains made from forgotten names.
A voice spoke:
> "Let them sing of justice. Let them believe in order. So long as they never remember what we took."
Saelira gasped awake.
Aralyndra was already by her side.
> "What did you see?"
> "The Seventh Throne never fell," she whispered.
> "It simply changed its name."
---
🜂 Meanwhile – In the Capital of the Gods
The Serpent Judge stood before the remaining thrones.
She knew something was wrong.
The Silent Queen no longer wept.
The God of Chains had vanished.
The Weaver of Fate had cut her own tongue.
And the Seventh Throne?
It still gleamed.
Too perfectly.
She stared at it for a long time.
And then whispered—
> "What have we built atop this lie?"
The throne responded not with voice—but with a memory erased from her own mind.
And suddenly—
She forgot why she had doubted.
---
🌑 The Usurper Watches With Interest
He had not made the Seventh Throne.
He despised it.
Because it had done what even he had not:
Rewrote history in the name of righteousness.
> "The liar survives longest," he said, amused.
> "But lies rot slower than corpses."
He turned his attention elsewhere.
Toward the last piece of Astraeva's truth.
Something even the gods no longer knew existed.
> "They remember the voice," he whispered.
"But they do not know what it once chose to save."
And with that, he reached deep into the Hollow—
And pulled something out.
---
🜃 The Map That Cannot Be Drawn
Karna stared at the war map. Every city they had reclaimed, every temple that still stood.
But tonight, the map would not draw.
The ink refused to hold form.
The lines bent.
The paths broke.
> "Something is hiding from us," he said.
> "No," Saelira whispered. "Someone."
She raised her hand.
The Fragment in her palm spilled not light—but names.
One of them caught Aralyndra's breath.
A name she hadn't heard in centuries.
> "Lioren," she whispered.
Karna turned sharply. "Who?"
She didn't answer at first.
Then:
> "The one Astraeva gave everything to save."
---
⚔️ The Lie Within the Lie
Lioren had been erased by the gods.
Not killed.
Not banished.
But forgotten.
Because Astraeva had chosen to protect a mortal, not a divine.
She had broken every law of heaven to do it.
The Seventh Throne had condemned her.
And when the other thrones had voted?
They'd agreed.
But the Seventh had rewritten the judgment into Astraeva's fall.
And made it seem like her sacrifice had never happened.
---
🔥 Aralyndra's Resolve
She stared at the Fragment in Saelira's hands.
And knew—
If they were to find Lioren.
If they were to reclaim Astraeva's final vow.
They would have to go beyond the map.
Beyond memory.
Into the place where forgotten things still burn.
> "We march tomorrow," she said.
> "Where?" Karna asked.
She looked at him.
> "Into the place the Seventh Throne denies ever existed."
---
🌌 Above – The Seventh Throne Trembles
It glowed still.
But it felt it—
The unraveling.
Not from battle.
Not from fire.
But from truth.
And truth was the only thing it could not consume.
It began to sing false songs, to spread false visions.
But one voice cut through it all.
From the ground.
From a child.
> "Lioren…"
> "Lioren…"
---
🌑 The Usurper Smiles Again
> "And now they chase ghosts."
> "Good."
He stretched his hand toward the heavens.
> "Let's see if a lie can survive its own memory."
And with that—
The Seventh Throne began to bleed.