The throne accepted Arthur.
But it did not keep him.
The moment he settled onto the ancient stone, something far beyond the hall responded. It was not a sound, nor a tremor — it was a distant reflex, almost imperceptible to anyone who did not know how to feel.
Far from there, above the walls, the Barrier of Akatlon pulsed in deep red, like a delayed warning, as if it had only just realized that something at its axis had shifted.
In the throne hall, Arthur did not see this.
He was seated.
Breathing.
Alive — but drained.
The adult body remained there, too heavy to feel natural. The muscles still defined, the shoulders broad, the posture mismatched with the exhaustion in his eyes. The blue energy that had sustained him before now slowly withdrew, like a retreating tide.
That was when he noticed.
Her.
The woman stood a few steps ahead.
Upright — but incomplete.
The blue glow beneath her skin began to unravel into soft particles, escaping her body like luminous dust carried by a wind that did not exist. First the fingers. Then the arms. Entire lines of light detached and rose, dissolving into the air.
— No… — Arthur tried to say.
No sound came out.
His throat was too dry. His body too heavy. He raised his hand instinctively, as if he could hold her there by force, as if energy would still obey his will.
Nothing answered.
The throne beneath him began to vibrate irregularly.
Arthur's body glowed.
Red.
Then blue.
Then red again.
Blue.
Red.
Blue.
The alternation was unstable. It was not control. It was conflict.
He tried to release power — felt something answer, very far away, above, deep. The ship flared for an instant, as if it had been forcibly awakened, as if it stood ready to react.
But Arthur could not endure it.
The glow intensified one last time.
And then… went out.
The adult body contracted as if pulled from the inside out. Bones cracked. Energy escaped in short waves. The presence the throne had recognized fragmented.
Arthur was thrown forward.
He fell from the throne.
The impact echoed sharply through the empty hall.
And everything went dark.
He woke with his heart racing.
— Her…? — he murmured, sitting up.
His voice came out hoarse, confused.
His body was as before.
Younger.
Smaller.
The weight was gone — but it had taken something with it, something he could not name.
Arthur staggered to his feet.
— Where are you…? — he called, his voice rising, desperation surfacing too quickly.
Nothing.
The hall was far too silent now. The throne behind him seemed like mere stone — ancient, indifferent. The blue fissure in the wall had closed completely, leaving only faint marks, like old scars.
He ran.
To the hole in the floor, still smelling of recent energy. His mind was fractured. He remembered the battle. The black king. The throne.
But her… he only remembered her death.
— No… no… — he repeated, as if the word could stop the emptiness.
Until he reached the place.
The hole in the ground.
The place where everything had ended.
Arthur stopped at the edge, descended carefully, his feet touching broken stone, and walked slowly toward the center.
And then he saw her.
She was there.
Whole.
Lying among fragments of rock, breathing.
— …Mia — the name escaped before he could stop it.
Arthur dropped to his knees beside her, gently shaking her shoulders.
— Wake up. Wake up. We need to get out of here. Now.
She opened her eyes slowly, confused, her gaze taking time to focus.
— Arthur…? — her voice was weak.
— Later. We'll talk later. — He helped her up, slipping her arm over his shoulders. — Trust me. I'm feeling… something's wrong.
They walked.
Each step felt heavier than it should have. The Mountain was far too quiet.
The passage appeared ahead — a narrow opening between shifted rocks. Faint light came from the other side.
Arthur quickened his pace.
That was when he heard it.
A step.
Heavy.
Behind them.
He turned on instinct.
And saw her.
Tall.
Strong.
A woman with crushing presence, muscles defined, a body marked by real strength — not delicate, not sculpted to please, but to survive. A rigid abdomen, thick arms, legs firm as pillars. Her vivid red hair fell loose, shining like newly lit fire.
In each hand, a massive axe.
She stared at them with pure suspicion.
— Who are you? — her voice was firm, direct. — And what are you doing here?
Arthur did not answer.
There was no time.
He pulled Mia hard and crossed the passage.
The instant they passed through, he felt something move behind them.
A shadow.
The passage began to close.
Arthur heard the air split by something far too fast.
And then…
The scream.
A single, furious scream, echoing through the rocks before being swallowed by the collapse of the passage.
Silence.
Arthur stood still, breathing hard, his heart nearly bursting from his chest.
Mia tightened her grip on his arm.
— What… was that?
Arthur did not answer at once.
He looked at the sealed passage.
And, for the first time since the throne, he felt something clear.
This was not over.
Not even close.