The world trembled - not from war, but from uncertainty.
In the span of days, the 13 most powerful kings in existence had all felt it:
A ripple with no source.
A presence with no name.
And an event so great... that even the threads of fate refused to weave it.
So they did what they had not done in over two thousand years.
They gathered.
In the center of the world, beneath a floating temple older than any kingdom, a circular hall awaited them. The Throned Chamber, forged in silence and sealed by oath.
Thirteen seats. Thirteen rulers. One truth waiting.
Flames roared. Lightning crackled. Time itself paused at the gates.
One by one, they arrived:
The Demon King, with eyes like burning coal.
The Dragon King, in armor of living flame.
The Angel King, The Angel King, his wings veiled in gold light.
The God-King, silent and unreadable.
The Ice King, whose breath turned air to frost.
The King of Water, whose footsteps rippled reality.
The Sea King, ancient and slow, his presence like the tide.
The King of Time, always late, yet always first.
The King of Space, walking from a doorway that wasn't there.
The King of Snow, quiet as death.
The King of Lightning, impatient and sparking.
The King of Storm, rumbling with thunder beneath his skin.
And finally... The King of Stars, who hadn't spoken since the last great war.
But before anyone could speak...
The air changed.
A shimmer passed through the chamber. Old magic.
And into the hall walked a man older than any of them.
Elder Solarin.
He wore no crown. No sword. No armor.
Just robes faded by time, and a staff carved with ancient words.
The kings stood. All of them.
Even the God-King.
Because Elder Solarin was not a ruler.
He was the Watcher of the Worlds.
And he was never wrong.
"Thirteen thrones," Solarin said, his voice calm as dusk,
"but only eight souls matter now."
A pause. Silence fell heavier than any storm.
"You all felt it. The shiver in the stars. The breath without fate.
Eight children, scattered like seeds - not born to destiny,
but born without it."
Eyes widened. Some in awe. Others in fear.
"They will not follow your rules," Solarin said.
"They will not kneel to your crowns.
And they will not be found... unless they allow it."
The Angel King stepped forward.
"You speak of prophecy?"
Solarin shook his head.
"I speak of its death."
Each king looked at the others, unsure of whether to fear or hope.
Then Elder Solarin whispered one last thing, a warning and a truth:
"You did not lose control.
You never had it."
And then - he vanished.
End of Chapter 4 - The Gathering of Thrones