The gate rose from the ground like the broken teeth of a buried god. Moon sigils shimmered faintly across its surface—seven crescents, each carved into obsidian.
"A seal," Elira whispered, brushing her fingers over the runes. "Older than the throne. Older than the kingdoms."
Nareus tilted his head, his eyes wide. "This is where the old bloodlines came to die."
Selene stepped beside Kael, blade drawn. "What are the odds it opens nicely?"
Kael said nothing. His cursed dagger pulsed. Not in warning—in recognition.
He raised it to the gate.
The sigils flared.
A deep groan echoed from within the stone. The crescent moons shifted—turning like gears—aligning.
One by one, they clicked into place. The center glowed with a pale, silver light.
Kael stepped back.
The gate opened.
Beyond lay a valley of ruins drowned in moonlight. White trees rose like bone pillars, and rivers of glass flowed between them.
They crossed the threshold.
Immediately, the air changed. It was too still. Too perfect. The kind of silence that only came when time no longer moved.
"This place..." Nareus murmured. "This was once called Vael'Aran—the City of the First Throne."
Elira looked around in awe. "There's magic here. Strong. Untouched by decay."
Selene shook her head. "Or preserved by something that still remembers."
They advanced slowly. Statues lined the streets—humanoid, cloaked, all faceless. Each held a scroll or a dagger.
Kael's steps grew heavier. The dagger in his hand burned colder. The throne's pull was stronger here.
Then came the sound—stone scraping stone.
They turned.
One of the statues had moved.
Its faceless head tilted. Its dagger pointed—at Kael.
"The oath-breaker has come," it intoned in a voice like cracked marble. "The cycle approaches its end."
More statues shifted. Their heads turned. Their arms rose.
Elira whispered, "They're guardians."
"Of what?" Selene asked.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Of truth."
The lead statue stepped forward.
"Speak your name, heir of ash. Speak, and the City will judge you."
Kael met its blank face.
"I am Kael Valtheris. Marked by the Throne. Hunter of the curse."
The statues froze.
Then—knelt.
"Then remember, Kael Valtheris..." the lead one said. "You walk not toward the throne… but into it."
---
End of Chapter 25
The City of the First Throne has opened its secrets to Kael—but not without a price. Memory, identity, and fate are beginning to collapse into one path. The past no longer sleeps.