Nkosana awoke on the cold stone floor, breath ragged, skin slick with sweat. The chamber was empty—no woman, no throne. Just silence.
Except… not quite.
*"Let me in."*
The voice echoed again, not from around him but inside him. Like a whisper threading through his bones.
He stumbled to his feet. "Who are you?"
The answer came not in words, but in *images*—flashes of ancient war, of kingdoms crumbling beneath a burning sky, of a monstrous figure with eyes like suns and a grin carved in shadow.
*"I am what they buried. What they feared. I am the first and final king of ruin."*
Nkosana's heart pounded. He felt something under his skin ripple, like a second presence trying to surface. His reflection in a cracked mirror across the chamber stared back… but it was *smiling*, even though he wasn't.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from above. The guards had found him.
He turned to flee but the voice spoke again—calm, cruel.
*"Let me guide you... or you'll die before the truth is told."*
Nkosana hesitated.
Then he whispered, "Fine. But only until I'm safe."
A laugh echoed inside him—low, ancient, triumphant.
*"Deal."*