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Throne of Ash!

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Chapter 1 - Chapter One: Ashes of Beginnings

At the farthest edge of the Kingdom of Kildar, where the air hung heavy with the scent of ash and burning wood, a lone child sat amidst the ruins of his shattered home. His name was Orion — no older than ten — yet the pain in his eyes weighed more than any man twice his age. He did not cry. He made no sound. Only silence — cold, unmoving, like the stone beneath him.

Behind him, tongues of flame still devoured the remnants of memory — the family house that had once been a place of warmth and safety.

His family… burned to the last breath, in a night where betrayal was woven with masterful precision. They had accused his father of treason against the Emperor — falsely, cruelly — and all that remained was fire, ash, and the screams of the innocent, heard only by the void.

In that moment, Orion lost everything. All he had left was the fire that had taken his past — and the darkness that would forge his future.

Years passed like a raging storm sweeping across the Three Lands. Orion became a man of shadows — a merciless warrior, carrying a blood-drenched sword. No one knew his real name anymore. He was spoken of only in whispers across battlefields:

"The Last Ash," "The One Who Did Not Die,"

and "The Voice of Fire."

Behind the mystery, his heart grew colder, and his mind filled with secrets tied to kingdoms yet to be revealed.

On a bitter night, with the moon hiding behind thick clouds, Orion arrived at a forgotten village at the base of Mount Miras. The wind carried fine ash in the air, falling like a silent invitation from the heavens.

He entered the village's only inn. An old man swept the dusty floor with a worn wooden staff, as if trying to erase time itself.

Orion spoke in a voice as cold as the night:

— "A room… or at least, a place to stay warm."

The old man looked at him with tired eyes that held too many stories:

— "Nothing stays warm here except the burned memories. Are you looking for shelter… or a quiet death?"

Orion nodded slowly. He sat before the dying fire and pulled a tattered map from beneath his cloak. He spread it across the table, pointing to three scattered marks: Enal, Travin, and Syrah — three warring kingdoms. In the center was a black circle with a single name:

"Throne of Ash."

Orion whispered:

— "This… is the truth that burns within me."

The old man replied:

— "Truth is fire. It spares no one. Only those who've burned can survive it."

At that moment, the door creaked open. A girl in a dust-covered blue cloak stepped inside. Her eyes carried the sorrow of generations.

She looked at Orion and asked, her voice heavy with pain:

— "Is it you? The man they say… never died?"

He returned a sharp gaze:

— "Who are you?"

She answered:

— "My name is Marissa… daughter of the traitor who destroyed your family."

Orion slowly drew his sword, pointing its cold steel at her chest. Yet Marissa's eyes did not waver. She stood still — as if daring fate itself to strike her.

She said, firmly:

— "I didn't come to fight. I came because we dream of the same throne… and I want to write the ending with you."

For the first time in years, Orion smiled — not warmth, but a smirk like wind scattering embers before a blaze:

— "Then let's begin."

Days passed in the small inn. They shared stories, secrets, and plans. Orion began to understand Marissa. She was clever, brave, and unafraid to face her past.

She told him of her father — the nobleman who betrayed not only his kingdom but his own blood. He traded the lives of innocents for power. Marissa had rejected that path. She joined the underground resistance aiming to overthrow the corrupt rulers.

One stormy night, the two sat by the glowing fire, studying the map again.

Marissa spoke:

— "Enal is the heart of wealth, ruled by a family that knows no mercy.

Travin is the fortress of warriors, where strength is measured by the sword.

Syrah… the cradle of magic and secrets, where everything begins — and ends."

Orion stared at the map:

— "And they all meet here… the Throne of Ash.

A place where history can be rewritten."

Suddenly, the door was kicked open. A group of masked men stormed in, their eyes filled with rage and hatred.

The leader spoke with an icy voice:

— "We've heard rumors… of a nameless warrior wandering these lands. A threat to the kingdoms."

Orion stood, sword in hand, calm but burning:

— "Kingdoms? You destroyed their peace long ago."

A brutal fight erupted inside the inn. Blades clashed. The air filled with war cries and steel. Marissa fought beside Orion, agile and deadly, her dagger flashing like lightning.

The battle was brief — but decisive. The masked men fell. Orion and Marissa stood victorious, covered in blood and resolve.

Afterward, Orion sat catching his breath. He looked at Marissa:

— "You didn't flinch."

She smiled:

— "Fear stopped being an option the day I lost everything."

He nodded:

— "This journey will be long. Dangerous. The enemy is stronger than you know."

Her voice didn't shake:

— "And I'm ready."

That night, Orion stood on the inn's balcony, gazing up at a sky heavy with clouds, the moon hidden behind a veil of gray.

He whispered to himself:

— "The Throne of Ash… won't be the end of my story…

It will be the beginning of my legend."

And so began their journey into the unknown.

A road paved with danger, secrets, and betrayal.

A path into the heart of darkness — where only those who've burned…

can rise from the ash.