The heavens tore apart.
Not metaphorically — literally.
Aiden felt it inside the throne chamber even though his consciousness was somewhere between reality and the memory-plane. The universe trembled like stretched glass about to shatter, and a low, thunderous vibration ran through every dimension at once.
Outside, Astraxion's colossal form unfurled across the sky of the Celestial Orchard.
Wings made of cosmic dust and void-fire stretched wider than mountains.
Its scales rippled like molten galaxies devouring themselves.
Seris stood frozen below, staring upward with an expression she had never worn in hundreds of years:
Fear.
"Already…? Impossible…" she whispered. "He shouldn't be able to manifest here yet."
But Astraxion was not waiting for permission.
"THE THRONE AWAKENS.
THE LOST KINGLING SEEKS HIS CROWN.
AND SO…"
Its voice split the orchard like a spear of entropy.
"…I WILL REMOVE HIM."
The dragon lunged.
◆ ◆ ◆
Inside the Throne Chamber, Aiden felt the impact like a shockwave through his bones. The universe flickered. Constellations twisted. Threads of memory snapped and re-braided.
He gripped the arms of the throne, gasping.
"Seris—? Father—? What's happening?!"
Valerius's projection flickered beside him.
"Astraxion is breaking into the Orchard. Your awakening accelerated his arrival."
"So he's coming for me?"
"No," Valerius said grimly. "He's coming to erase the Throne itself. If the Throne falls, there will be no Archivist. No anchor. No worlds left to save."
Aiden's breath tightened.
"What do I do?!"
"You synchronize," Valerius said urgently. "Fully. Completely. Become the Throne."
"That sounds extremely dangerous!"
"It is." Valerius met his eyes. "But you're out of time."
The throne beneath Aiden's hands flared — massive spirals of sigils circling him.
Aiden shut his eyes.
"Okay. Okay— just tell me how."
Valerius placed his glowing palm on Aiden's forehead.
"You remember everything you lost. Let it in."
Aiden's pulse spiked.
"No— wait— I don't know if I'm ready—"
"You are. You must be."
The projection pressed its hand firmly.
Light burst.
The chamber cracked open—
And Aiden fell into his memories.
◆ ◆ ◆
He landed in a burning courtyard.
Flames roared around him.
Soldiers in golden armor fought desperately against shadowy beasts crawling from crimson rifts.
The air stank of smoke, blood, panic.
Aiden staggered, clutching his chest.
"This… this is—"
His home.
Yet not as he remembered.
Because he had never remembered it at all.
A young woman in ceremonial armor sprinted past him — silver hair tied back, eyes fierce.
"Prince Aiden! Get to the evacuation gate!"
Aiden froze.
"Prince—?"
She stopped, realizing he wasn't moving.
"Aiden! Why are you staring like that—? We don't have time!"
"W-Who are you?" Aiden whispered.
Her expression twisted — confused, hurt, desperate.
"It's me. Lyra. Your royal guardian. Your—"
A violent quake split the palace.
A monstrous silhouette tore through the smoke.
Wings of cosmic fire.
Eyes like burning suns.
A maw opening wider than the horizon.
Astraxion.
But younger. Smaller.
Still powerful enough to destroy a world.
Lyra shoved Aiden behind her.
"Run! I'll hold him—"
"NO!" Aiden shouted instinctively. "Lyra, don't!"
But he was too late.
The dragon descended.
Reality bent.
The palace, Lyra, the soldiers — all evaporated into a storm of crimson dust.
Aiden fell to his knees as the memory dissolved around him like sand slipping through fingers.
His voice cracked.
"…I knew her. Didn't I…?"
The void answered with silence.
Then another memory tore open beneath him.
◆ ◆ ◆
Aiden stood now in a grand throne room — peaceful this time. The same throne he had just sat on, but whole, radiant, alive.
A crown floated above a young boy's head.
A boy who looked exactly like—
"Him," Aiden whispered.
Himself, but younger.
Valerius knelt before the child.
Lyra stood by his side.
Nobles filled the hall.
"Today," Valerius said proudly, "my son Aiden is recognized as First Heir of the Solaryn Dominion."
The younger Aiden looked embarrassed.
"I don't feel ready."
Lyra smiled warmly down at him.
"No ruler ever does."
The boy smiled back.
Aiden's chest tightened painfully.
That smile — he remembered it.
Not with his mind.
With his soul.
But the vision shattered like glass under another cosmic tremor.
Astraxion's roar split through the memory-plane.
"YOU CANNOT HIDE BEHIND WHAT WAS."
The world ripped open—
And Aiden was thrown back into the Throne Chamber.
◆ ◆ ◆
He gasped as he materialized, gripping the throne so tightly his knuckles blanched.
Valerius's projection flickered rapidly.
"There is no more time. Synchronize now!"
Aiden, breathing hard, clenched his jaw.
"No. I won't just sit here while Astraxion destroys everything. I'm not a child anymore."
"You misunderstand," Valerius said. "Synchronization is fighting. The Throne amplifies your existence. Without it, you're a spark. With it—"
He touched Aiden's chest.
"—you become a star."
Aiden stared at the throne.
At the spiraling constellations.
At the place he had once belonged.
Then he sat straighter.
And opened himself.
Light exploded outward—
And the Throne began to merge with him.
◆ ◆ ◆
Outside, the tower lit up like a supernova.
Seris shielded her face. "He's doing it. He's actually—"
Astraxion slammed into the tower.
The entire orchard screamed.
Reality cracked under the dragon's claws as it tried to rend the tower open.
Seris raised her staff, chanting desperately — barrier after barrier, spell after spell — trying to hold the orchard together.
"Hold on, Aiden," she choked. "Please— hold on."
Astraxion roared.
"COME OUT, LITTLE HEIR.
COME FACE THE END OF YOUR LINE."
◆ ◆ ◆
Inside the throne chamber, Aiden's body burned with power — stardust veins, constellations swirling beneath his skin. His eyes glowed with ancient blue fire.
Valerius's projection faded.
"Remember this, my son…"
Aiden lifted his head, voice resonant and steady.
"I'm not the last king anymore."
He rose from the throne — the chamber fracturing around him in spiraling galaxies.
"I'm the next."
Astraxion's claw ripped through the chamber wall.
Aiden turned toward it, unflinching.
Lights flared across his hands — brilliant, ancient, kingly.
He was ready.