The moment my fingers brushed the throne, the air thickened, charged with something ancient. A low hum vibrated through my bones, spreading from my fingertips, seeping into my skin like ink in water.
Then—
Everything shattered.
Not physically. The chamber was still there, the throne beneath my hand, the torches lining the stone walls. But my perception of the world fractured. The weight of reality twisted, and suddenly—
I was elsewhere.
The air was black, void-like, stretching infinitely in all directions. It wasn't emptiness, not truly. It watched. It listened. A presence lingered, unseen but undeniable.
Then, from the depths of the darkness, a figure stepped forward.
I froze.
It was me.
Or rather, the person I used to be.
The same cold eyes. The same slow, calculating smirk. They wore the crimson robes I had once draped over my shoulders like a king's mantle. Power radiated from them, rolling in thick waves, pressing against my skin.
