The Hollow Throne

The world of Yrlith hung in an ethereal twilight, a strange tranquility settling over the landscape, as if reality itself awaited something inevitable, undeniable. Shadows stretched infinitely across the hollowed peaks of the Amora Mountains, twisting and bending with no regard for their natural origins. All things felt suspended in anticipation of a decision yet to be made—a resolution that would determine whether existence continued or shattered into endless silence.

In the heart of the mountaintop sanctuary lay the Throne of the Gods, a colossal, crystalline seat carved with ancient, indecipherable glyphs that pulsed dimly, alive with echoes of countless deities who once ruled the realms. For countless centuries, it had remained empty—a mere relic, waiting for someone strong enough, or foolish enough, to claim its unimaginable power.

Eryn stood before it, his silhouette casting a stark shadow over the empty throne as he observed it with a mixture of indifference and unease. The throne radiated a subtle pull, a resonance that vibrated through him like a distant, insistent drumbeat. His heart pulsed with it, each beat synchronizing with the silent rhythms of the ancient seat.

The silence fractured as Kaelen materialized from the shadows, his presence as sudden as a flash of lightning, cold and indifferent. He moved toward Eryn, his gaze lingering on the throne before he finally spoke, his voice a seductive murmur layered with dark amusement.

"It awaits you, Eryn. The Hollow Throne was never meant for a mere god. It was meant for someone beyond them. It was meant for someone like you."

Eryn’s expression remained impassive, though something sharp glinted in his gaze. "You mean someone willing to erase all meaning, all history, just to fill it." He turned his back on the throne, eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something beyond Kaelen’s whispers. "And why would I care for a throne in a world devoid of life?"

Kaelen chuckled, his voice a low hum. "You misunderstand. You wouldn’t erase it all. You would give it purpose, rebuild it as you see fit—a world without the weight of memory, where only your will matters."

Eryn scoffed. "And become another hollow god in a hollow world? Spare me, Kaelen."

But Kaelen’s eyes glowed with a fierce, unsettling intensity. "Look around, Eryn. The world is already breaking. Fragmented memories, looping realities, cracks in time itself—they are the byproducts of your very existence, the tremors left in the wake of every thought, every impulse." He stepped closer, his gaze penetrating, a flicker of something dark and knowing curling at the corners of his mouth. "You’re denying what you are. You are the root of this broken world, and yet you would leave it to rot?"

Eryn felt his hands clench involuntarily. For a fleeting second, he could feel the power in him resonate with Kaelen’s words, a dark longing that he had tried to suppress since discovering his anomaly. He could, in a mere thought, seize the throne and with it, reshape the entire fabric of reality. He could wipe away the emptiness, fill the world with the only things that had ever brought him fleeting meaning.

But he couldn’t bring himself to trust Kaelen—not with this.

"All you offer is an illusion of freedom, Kaelen. I might be able to remake the world, but you’d see me as nothing more than a puppet on your strings." Eryn’s voice was low, yet each word echoed through the hollow sanctuary with a weight that left no room for rebuttal. "Whatever world I’d create under your guidance would be one where nothing of my own would remain—just more emptiness, cloaked in a prettier façade."

Kaelen’s face twisted, but he forced his usual calm smile back, though it held a mocking edge. "Then, what would you have, Eryn? An existence where you pretend not to matter? An entire lifetime watching the world rot, so you can spare yourself the burden of choice?"

Before Eryn could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension—a sound that halted him, if only for a heartbeat.

"Eryn! Don’t let him manipulate you."

Eilea’s voice reached him from the sanctuary’s entryway. She stepped forward, her face etched with resolve, her steady gaze boring into him. In her eyes, Eryn saw none of the awe or fear he so often found in others. Only sincerity. She was here, unbreakable, defiant, unafraid of his power, and she had risked everything to stop him from making a decision that might very well undo the world itself.

Kaelen’s gaze flicked toward her, a flicker of contempt curling his lip. "Ah, the mortal—clinging to hope, as if her pitiful life could possibly make a difference in the balance of all things."

Eryn felt something stir within him. Anger, maybe—mixed with a fierce protectiveness he hadn’t felt in so long. He stepped forward, placing himself between Kaelen and Eilea. "You won’t touch her."

Kaelen’s smile vanished, replaced by an unreadable expression. "You don’t understand, Eryn. Every second you stand there, refusing the throne, the world collapses further into chaos. If you truly don’t care about this world, fine. But at least recognize the consequences of inaction."

Eryn felt his power pulse within him, a potent, dizzying rush of energy that could silence Kaelen forever. With a thought, he could remove this manipulative figure from existence, the temptation buzzing at the edge of his control. But Kaelen was right about one thing: the world was fracturing. Without intervention, without someone to stabilize it, reality itself would succumb to the chasm Eryn’s power had left in its wake.

But was he truly the one to bear such a burden?

A silence fell as Eryn closed his eyes, focusing on the tempest of thoughts that raged within him. Memories surged up unbidden—images of lives erased, places he’d forgotten, fragments of emotions he’d abandoned. Yet in the whirlwind of memories, one remained steady: Eilea, standing by his side, unflinching in the face of his indifference and power.

His eyes opened, sharper, more resolute. “You want the throne so badly, Kaelen?” he whispered, his voice taut with restraint. “Then come take it yourself.”

Kaelen’s eyes widened in surprise, but he stepped forward, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Gladly.”

With a flick of his wrist, Kaelen unleashed a torrent of raw, chaotic energy that spiraled toward Eryn, hungry and wild. Eryn countered effortlessly, his own power flooding the sanctuary, meeting Kaelen’s attack with a precision that sent a wave of force reverberating through the air. The walls trembled, and shadows scattered as the two forces collided, swirling in a violent dance of clashing wills.

Kaelen shifted, flickering like a phantom as he appeared behind Eryn, his voice a mere whisper. “You’ve lived too long in complacency. Power without purpose is hollow.”

Eryn whirled, his hand outstretched as he forced Kaelen back with a surge of his own energy, pinning him against the wall. “And your purpose is to see the world broken?”

Kaelen laughed, his voice strained but defiant. “Better broken than forgotten.”

The words ignited something fierce in Eryn. He felt his power surge, tendrils of raw energy spiraling around him, brightening the dim sanctuary with a blinding white light. But in that moment, he caught sight of Eilea’s face—a look not of fear, but of hope.

It was enough to steady him, enough to remind him of the cost of absolute power unmoored by restraint. Drawing a deep breath, Eryn released Kaelen, letting him fall to his knees.

Kaelen’s face contorted in anger, his voice trembling as he spat, “You’re nothing but a coward, Eryn. If you can’t choose, then everything you’ve touched, everything you love, will perish in this hollow world.”

Eryn’s expression softened, his gaze turning from Kaelen to the throne one final time. “Maybe it’s time for something new. Maybe power isn’t meant to belong to anyone—not to gods, not to mortals.”

He reached out, but not to claim the throne. His hand pressed to the air, and with a wave of will, he drew his power inward, suppressing it until the room itself grew quiet, even Kaelen silenced in shock. The glyphs on the throne flickered, dimmed, then faded altogether.

“I’d rather walk away,” Eryn said, voice barely more than a whisper, though it echoed through the sanctuary. “And leave the gods’ power in the emptiness where it belongs.”

Kaelen stared at him, fury burning in his eyes as Eryn turned and walked past him, past the throne, and toward Eilea. The sanctuary began to dissolve around them, the boundaries between existence and nonexistence wavering, folding in on themselves. But Eryn held Eilea’s hand, grounding them both, guiding them as they stepped away from the remnants of power, toward a future left undefined.

For in the end, the Hollow Throne would remain just that—an empty monument to a power neither god nor man could truly wield.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***