A Power That Should Not Be
The throne before the boy hummed, radiating waves of unseen force.
It was not just a seat—it was a presence.
Ancient. Unyielding.
He could feel it calling to him, the whispers of countless voices threading through his mind.
"You have returned."
"You carry the blood."
"Will you reclaim what was lost?"
His small hands trembled at his sides.
He didn't understand.
And yet, he did.
Somewhere deep within him, buried beneath the memories of his short life, something older stirred.
He took a step forward.
And the moment his fingers brushed the throne—
The world shattered.
---
Seraphina's Struggle
Seraphina fought.
The ghosts of her past came at her with relentless fury.
Every failure. Every death. Every moment of weakness—they took shape and attacked.
But she would not fall.
She could not fall.
Her son needed her.
A blade formed in her hand—born of sheer will—and she cut through the illusions.
One by one, they vanished.
Until only one remained.
Malagar.
He stood before her, untouched, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"Even now, you fight against fate."
Seraphina gritted her teeth. "I don't believe in fate."
Malagar smiled.
"But he does."
Before she could react, the world around her collapsed.
And she was falling—straight into darkness.
---
The Bloodline Awakens
The boy's world exploded.
Visions flooded his mind.
Cities lost to time.
Armies kneeling before a figure shrouded in golden fire.
A name spoken in reverence and fear—Xel'thorin.
And then, the throne spoke.
"The blood remembers."
The golden veins running through the stone flared to life, and a force poured into the boy's body.
He gasped, his small hands clutching his chest as the energy rushed through his veins.
Something was changing.
Something was awakening.
And deep in the mortal realm—
Malagar felt it.
His eyes snapped open, his breath unsteady.
For the first time in centuries…
He was afraid.
---
The Blood's Revelation
The Throne's Power
The throne's golden veins pulsed in sync with the boy's heartbeat. Each throb sent waves of raw power surging through him—ancient knowledge, lost memories, and something more.
Something alive.
"You are the last."
The whisper came from within, not just from the throne. It was a voice embedded in his very soul.
"The last heir of the Forsaken Bloodline."
The boy clutched his chest as heat spread through his veins. Visions burned behind his eyes—
A towering empire, its banners bearing the insignia of a shattered sun.
Warriors clad in golden armor, kneeling before a throne just like this one.
A man with his same golden eyes, standing at the peak of power.
And then—destruction. The empire torn apart, the bloodline hunted and erased.
He gasped. The energy in his body coiled, waiting—expecting something.
"Will you reclaim your birthright?"
The boy looked up, his small fingers tightening into fists.
"I… don't know who I am."
The throne's golden glow dimmed.
"Then learn."
And the power rushed into him.
---
Seraphina's Descent
Seraphina was still falling.
The darkness around her was endless, her body spiraling down a chasm that had no bottom.
Then—a pull.
The abyss shattered around her, and she landed hard on solid ground.
She gasped, her senses reeling, before pushing herself up.
She was no longer in the Threshold.
Instead, she was in a place she had thought lost forever.
A ruined battlefield.
And in the distance, standing amidst broken banners and bloodstained earth—was herself.
Seraphina froze.
The other version of her was older, worn by war, her face hardened. Her armor bore the insignia of the Forsaken Bloodline.
And when she turned—her eyes were not her own.
They were golden.
Like her son's.
"You should not be here," the older Seraphina said.
Seraphina's breath caught. "Who… what are you?"
The older version studied her.
"The question is not who I am," she said. "It's what you could become."
---
The Hunt Begins
Far away, in the mortal world, Malagar stood before the Council of the Veil.
A grand hall stretched before him, filled with shadowy figures—ancient beings who had watched over the world for centuries.
Malagar's voice was calm, but his hands were clenched behind his back.
"The boy has awakened."
A ripple of unease spread through the council.
One of the figures spoke, its voice layered with hundreds of others.
"That is impossible. The bloodline was erased."
Malagar's golden eyes gleamed.
"Not all of it."
Silence.
Then, the eldest of the council, a being wreathed in silver mist, leaned forward.
"If the last heir has returned…"
"Then we have no choice."
Malagar nodded.
"The hunt begins."
---
The Boy's Awakening
The boy collapsed, his body trembling as the power settled within him.
He was breathing hard, his small hands pressing against the throne's surface.
Something had changed.
He felt different. Stronger. As if the world around him had expanded, revealing things he had never noticed before.
A presence loomed over him.
The Keeper stood at his side, watching.
"Now you understand."
The boy looked up, his golden eyes burning.
"What… am I?"
The Keeper smiled.
"You are the last piece of a forgotten war. And the world will come for you."
The boy's hands clenched.
He did not understand everything yet.
But one thing was clear.
He could no longer run.
It was time to fight.
---
Shadows of the Past
The Gathering Storm
The throne's golden veins pulsed with a slow, rhythmic hum, resonating with the boy's heartbeat. The weight of his bloodline settled over him like an unseen mantle.
The Keeper stood in silence, watching.
"You have seen glimpses of what once was. But your past is still fragmented."
The boy's golden eyes flickered with uncertainty.
"Then show me," he said.
The Keeper lifted a hand, and the world around them shifted.
---
Seraphina's Trial
Seraphina stood frozen, staring at the older version of herself.
This woman was not just a vision. She was real—a manifestation of something deeper.
Seraphina stepped forward cautiously. "If you are what I could become… why are you here?"
The older Seraphina's golden eyes flickered.
"Because the bloodline always comes with a choice," she said.
A gust of wind swept across the battlefield, kicking up ashes.
Seraphina's breath caught as figures began to appear—warriors clad in dark armor, their faces obscured.
The older version of her drew a blade, its edge glowing with the same golden light that coursed through her son's veins.
"You must decide," she said, her voice unwavering.
"To wield the power… or be consumed by it."
Before Seraphina could respond, the warriors attacked.
---
Malagar's Hunt
Deep within the Council's domain, Malagar stood before a massive, iron-wrought gate.
Beyond it lay the Hounds of the Veil—creatures bound by ancient magic, their purpose singular: to hunt those who should not exist.
Malagar whispered the incantation, his golden eyes gleaming as the gates creaked open.
From the darkness beyond, figures stirred.
Eyes like burning coals flickered to life.
A growl rumbled through the chamber as the first of the Hounds stepped forward—massive, its form wreathed in shadows that shifted unnaturally.
Malagar did not flinch.
"Find the boy."
The creatures vanished.
The hunt had begun.
---
The Boy's Revelation
The world around the boy had changed.
He now stood in the heart of a burning city.
Smoke filled the air, and shadows moved through the streets, cutting down anything in their path.
The boy turned—and saw himself.
An older version of him stood atop a crumbling tower, clad in black and gold armor.
His future self's golden eyes burned like twin suns.
He held out a hand.
"Come. Learn what it means to be Forsaken."
The boy hesitated, fear flickering in his gaze.
But then, he stepped forward.
And the past embraced him.