Chapter 1: Prologue — The Throne That Devours
The sky above the battlefield was not made for gods.
It was cracked open—like the earth itself had screamed, and the heavens answered in blood.
Raen Valor stood among corpses of angels and demons, the shattered wings of false divinity scattered like burned parchment. His hands shook around the hilt of a nameless sword—a weapon that drank light, memory, and soul.
He couldn't remember how many he had killed.
Only that none of them were enough.
Before him stood the Throne.
Ancient. Immovable. Breathing.
A spire of carved black bone, forged before time, pulsing with the echoes of every name it had ever consumed.
"Is this it?" Raen whispered, his voice hollow. "This is what they worshipped?"
He stepped forward, leaving footprints in the ash.
Every part of him—bone, blood, and memory—screamed to turn back. The closer he got, the heavier he felt. As if the throne was not just a relic, but a grave that remembered every soul that ever tried to reach it.