throne—no longer hollow, no longer waiting—watched me back.
It had changed.
Where once gold vines curled around obsidian arms, now red veins pulsed beneath cracked stone. It bled. It breathed. It remembered.
"System Alert: All previous monarchs… integrated."
A chill rolled through my spine.
I didn't sit.
I didn't dare.
Because I knew what they didn't. That the throne wasn't a seat of power.
It was a cage.
⸻
A flicker to my right.
A blur to my left.
My past selves stood behind me. Dozens. Hundreds.
Each of them—each me—had died before reaching this moment. They wore different scars. Some still bore chains. Others glowed with power they never got to use. But all of them turned to face the throne with me.
"Version_1: Cleansed."
"Version_22: Assimilated."
"Version_47: Transferred to crown memory."
"Version_113: Active control. Authority pending…"
Then, one voice cut through them all.
Not system. Not spirit.
Real.
"You made it farther than any of us."
I turned—and froze.
It was me.
But… older. Worn. Broken in a way no magic could repair. And his eyes? They were hollow.
"Who are you?" I asked, though the answer burned on my tongue.
He smiled. The kind of smile you wear when hope has turned to ash.
"I'm who you become if you sit on that throne."
⸻
The throne pulsed. A low hum turned into a heartbeat.
It wanted me to sit.
"Warning: Throne Override detected."
"Unknown presence occupying crown pathways."
"Emergency Lockdown in progress…"
The room shattered into light.
And just like that—we were in the past.
⸻
Not memory. Not illusion.
This was real.
The day I was born.
I saw my mother, screaming through blood and betrayal as the High Priest delivered me. I saw my uncle's shadow in the hallway, sword already in hand.
I watched my fiancée receive the bribe to betray me—before we ever met.
Time spiraled. Truth unraveled.
I wasn't betrayed once.
I was built to be betrayed.
⸻
And then it came.
A voice older than the gods. Deeper than the systems.
"Do you still want the throne?" it asked.
And behind me, every version of me went still.
Because this was the choice.
This was the moment no one ever reached.
This was the cost.
"Answer carefully," said the voice. "Because the throne does not forgive."
⸻
I stepped forward.
My heart thudded once.
And I said—