Caius couldn't move.
He stood frozen before the impossible—himself, older, darker, sitting upon the throne of the unknown.
The weight of those golden eyes pinned him in place, their glow radiating something deeper than just light. They were knowledge, certainty, and inevitability.
You cannot stop what is coming.
The words still rang in the hollow vastness of this place, sinking into Caius's bones like ice.
Selene and Elias flanked him, unmoving, breathless. He could feel their presence, the tension in their stances, the sheer disbelief and terror clawing at them—but this moment belonged to him.
The other Caius on the throne tilted his head slightly, studying him.
Older. His features were his own, but sharpened by time. His hair was longer, shadowed by something akin to a crown but woven from flickering darkness. His hands rested on the armrests, fingers wrapped around the edges like he had held this seat for centuries.
Caius swallowed. "Who are you?"
The figure's lips curled slightly. "You already know."
A part of him did. And that terrified him more than anything.
"You're not real," he said, his voice firmer than he felt. "This is just a vision."
The other Caius leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Is it?"
The space around them shuddered.
Reality twisted—not breaking, not fracturing, but rearranging.
The golden glow in the other's eyes burned brighter. "Tell me, Caius. If I am just a vision… then why do you feel the weight of this throne calling to you?"
Caius clenched his fists. "Because something is messing with time. With my time."
The shadows deepened, stretching toward him like hungry tendrils. The throne room—if it could even be called that—felt both infinite and crushingly small all at once.
His other self stood.
A slow, deliberate motion. A king rising from his throne.
Selene tensed beside him, hand twitching toward her dagger. Elias cursed under his breath, shifting his stance, but neither of them moved.
Caius didn't blame them. This was something beyond combat.
The other him stopped at the foot of the dais, looking down upon him as if he had already seen this conversation play out a thousand times.
"You think this is someone else's doing," the other Caius said. "You believe yourself a victim of fate."
His voice—it wasn't quite his own. It had layers. Like countless echoes of himself were speaking at once.
"But what if I told you that every step you take, every choice you make—it leads you here."
Caius's breath hitched.
"Lies."
The other smiled, almost pitying. "Is it?"
The throne rumbled.
A pulse of something vast and unfathomable rippled through the space. The weight of it made Caius stagger, his knees threatening to buckle.
This wasn't just a vision.
It was a warning. A truth. A future.
And the moment he realized that—the Watcher's voice returned.
"This Throne Does Not Belong to the Hollow King."
The presence of the Watcher—**unseen but undeniable—shuddered through the air.
Caius's mind burned with its words.
"It Belongs to You."
No.
No.
He refused to believe it.
But the truth was there, staring him in the face.
His own face.
The other Caius lifted a hand, and time fractured around them.
Caius's breath caught as the world ripped apart, splitting into countless possibilities.
One after another, flashing before him.
—Himself standing over the ruins of Evernight, the Hollow King dead at his feet.
—Selene, broken, whispering his name in disbelief.
—Elias, blade drawn against him, but too late—too late—too late.
—The throne, waiting, waiting, waiting.
And at the center of it all, himself, standing in the abyss of time, alone.
The visions slammed into him like a storm.
His knees buckled. His breath came sharp and ragged.
The other Caius watched, unmoved.
"This is your destiny," he said softly. "You cannot run from it."
Caius gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His body trembled, his mind rebelled—but he refused to break.
"You're wrong." His voice came low, shaking. But beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, there was something solid.
His defiance.
The other Caius tilted his head. "Am I?"
Then—he raised his hand.
The world cracked open.
And everything fell apart.
Caius gasped.
His body hit solid ground. Cold stone, damp air.
He was back.
The temple ruins. The Catacombs. The real world.
Selene was at his side in an instant. "Caius! Caius, look at me."
He struggled to breathe, to ground himself. The visions still clung to his mind, like phantom burns on his soul.
Elias loomed over him, face pale with unease. "That wasn't normal. What the hell happened in there?"
Caius tried to speak. His lips wouldn't move.
The words of the Watcher, the voice of his other self, the weight of that throne—it was all still inside him.
Selene's hands gripped his shoulders. "Caius."
His vision focused. He met her gaze.
And finally, he forced the words out.
"The Hollow King isn't the true threat."
A beat of silence.
Then Elias cursed. "What?"
Caius swallowed, his throat raw. "I saw… something worse. Something beyond the Hollow King."
He could still feel the weight of that throne.
Selene's grip tightened. "What do you mean?"
Caius's breath shook. "I mean…"
He exhaled slowly.
And when he spoke next, his voice was steady.
"The war we're fighting now—it's just the beginning."
Far across the ruined kingdom, within the blackened halls of the Hollow Keep, a different presence stirred.
The Hollow King sat in silence, his gaze cast into the depths of his own power.
The throne beneath him was not his own.
It had never been.
The shadows at his feet whispered—of change, of shifting tides, of something ancient awakening.
And far beyond, in the places between time, a new path had been carved.
A path leading straight to him.
The Hollow King's lips curled.
"Let the boy learn," he murmured to the darkness.
"For soon, he will understand."
"There is no changing fate."