Part 5: The Crownless Throne
Ashroot Vale was quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just emptied.
The red tree still stood, scorched and split down the middle. Its sap bled out slowly into the dirt. A grave no one would mark.
They searched the remnants.
Amelia found a hollow behind the old chapel—a sanctum sealed in forgotten wards.
Sacha broke it open.
Inside, they found a circular room.
Simple.
Stone walls. No banners. One chair—root-bound, carved from the bones of ancient trees.
A throne.
Unclaimed.
Unmarked.
Yuji stepped forward.
He didn't sit.
He didn't speak.
He stared at it a long time.
Siora moved to his side. "You know they built this for you."
Sylvia stood near the doorway. "Or something like you."
Amelia traced a finger along the throne's base. "Waiting for whoever wears decay wrapped in bloom."
Sacha stood guard outside, watching the sky. "You gonna take it?"
Yuji shook his head.
"I'm not here to rule."
He raised one hand.
The vines along the throne crept aside, as if obeying. He reached into his pouch, pulled a single bloom—cut from the vine he used to tear open the outpost two days prior.
He pressed it into the throne's back.
Then carved a glyph beside it.
Not in his native tongue.
In old script.
Druidic.
It said:
"I am not your god.
I am your reckoning."
Far to the north, in a sanctum where light was banned—
Cardinal Voran read the glyph's copy, relayed via carrion.
He touched the parchment.
And smiled.
"Good," he whispered. "Now the gods will listen."