The Throne of Absence
The hollow throne did not exist.
That was the first thing Eira understood.
It was a negative space—a silhouette where a throne should be, carved from the absence of light, sound, and time. The longer she stared, the more it hurt, like trying to remember a word that didn't exist.
Kaelan's hand found hers, his shadows instinctively recoiling from the throne's edge. "We're not sitting in that."
Nyx twirled a dagger made of Luminarch bone. "I mean, you could ignore it. But then the crowns might, y'know…" She mimed an explosion.
Eira's crown pulsed, confirming the threat.
"Fine," she muttered, stepping forward.
Kaelan yanked her back. "Together."
Their joined hands glowed where they touched—starlight and shadow braiding into something new. Something eclipsed.
The throne shivered in anticipation.
---
The Coronation
Sitting was less an act and more an unmaking.
Eira felt it first—the hollow throne drinking in her edges, dissolving the borders between her skin and the universe. Kaelan's gasp beside her said he felt it too, his shadows unraveling like thread from a spindle.
Then the visions came:
A court of mirrors, reflecting endless versions of themselves—some crowned in gold, others in rot.
The Forgotten kneeling not in submission, but in *mourning*.
Nyx, older and weeping, pressing a knife to her own throat.
The throne whispered:
"Rule or die."
Eira's voice was raw. "We choose."
The throne laughed.
---
The First Decree
Reality snapped back with the sound of a breaking neck.
They weren't in the ruins anymore.
They stood in a cathedral of living obsidian and frozen starlight, the ceiling open to a sky where two moons—one black, one white—hovered in perpetual eclipse. The Forgotten lined the hall, their hollow eyes fixed on the dais where Eira and Kaelan now stood.
At their feet, Nyx curtsied, her grin sharp as a scalpel. "Welcome to the Eclipse Court, Your Majesties."
Kaelan's shadows lashed out, pinning her in place. "Explain. Now."
Nyx sighed. "Ugh, fine. The thrones aren't chairs. They're seals. You just took the last one off."
Eira's blood went cold. "Seals on what?"
The ground trembled.
The Forgotten smiled.
And the doors at the end of the hall *slammed* open—
---
The Uninvited Guest
The figure that strode in wore Kaelan's face.
But it wasn't him.
This version was taller, crueler, his crown forged from broken mirrors and his cloak stitched from forgotten screams. The true Shadow King—not Veyl's pale imitation, but the original. The first.
His voice was the scrape of a blade on bone:
"Did you miss me?"
Behind him, the Luminarchs marched—not as enemies, but as honor guard, their golden masks cracked to reveal the same hollow darkness as the Forgotten.
Nyx clapped. "Daddy's home!"
Kaelan's grip on Eira turned bruising. "That's not—"
"Oh, but it is," the Shadow King crooned. "You're my heir, boy. And you've brought me the perfect bride."
His gaze locked on Eira.
"Shall we begin the real wedding?"
---
Cliffhanger Ending: The Blood Vow
The Shadow King extended a hand—not to Eira, but to Kaelan.
"Kill her," he whispered. "And I'll give you the world."
Kaelan's dagger was in his hand before Eira could blink.
His golden eyes met hers—
—and he smiled.
---
Teaser for Chapter Eighteen: The King's Gambit
The true enemy has arrived.
Kaelan's blade is drawn.
And the crowns?
They're laughing.