A hush fell over the chamber as the First King emerged fully from the tomb. Dust and age clung to him like a shroud, but his presence was anything but withered. Power pulsed from his form in waves—thick, ancient, and commanding. His crimson eyes scanned the chamber slowly, until they settled on Eira.
"You are not of this world," he said, his voice a low thunder. "And yet you carry its fate in your hands."
Eira held her ground, even as the others drew closer behind her.
"I'm not your heir," she said, voice steady. "I'm here to end what you started."
A smile ghosted across the king's lips—cold and knowing. "So were many before you. All failed."
Valtherion stepped forward, blade in hand. "You made us monsters. I swore I would never let you rise again."
The king regarded him with mild interest. "Ah, the disobedient son. Still loyal to his guilt."
Lucien moved beside Eira, his sword drawn but lowered. "If you know who she is, then you know she's not like the others. She's stronger."
"Perhaps," the king murmured. "Or perhaps fate plays its cruelest game one final time."
The Trial of Fire and Blood
The cavern trembled as runes flared to life beneath the First King's feet. The crystal tree behind him began to pulse with a low, resonant hum, reacting to his return. The tomb transformed into a platform of glowing stone, symbols spiraling outward in crimson light.
"A trial," the king said. "As it was before. You must walk the path between life and death—willingly. Only then can you choose to destroy or claim what remains."
Eira looked to her friends. Their faces were drawn, exhausted—but determined.
"I have to go alone," she said.
Lucien's grip tightened on his hilt. "Eira—"
"I know," she whispered. "But this is my choice. My burden."
Valtherion gave a single, grave nod. "We'll hold the way."
Eira stepped onto the platform. The world around her dimmed, and then she was falling—not through space, but through memory.
Visions of the Crown
She landed in a field soaked with moonlight. The stars above were sharp and foreign. In the center of the field stood a throne of bone and flame—and on it, the First King.
But he was younger here. Alive. And the light in his eyes burned with ambition instead of decay.
"Do you know what it is to fear eternity?" he asked, as she approached.
"I'm learning," she said.
He laughed—genuine and terrible. "I feared it once. Then I broke it."
Images swirled around them—of war, gods screaming, blood pouring like rivers into the soil. She saw him forging the first blood sigils. Feeding his soul into the ritual that would create vampires from men.
And then she saw something else.
A woman.
Herself—or someone who looked just like her.
"She was the first key," he said softly. "My consort. My opposite. The one meant to stop me… if I ever went too far."
Eira's throat tightened. "What happened to her?"
"She chose love over fate," he said. "And so fate killed her."
The Return
The vision dissolved, and Eira found herself back in the chamber. The First King stood once more before her—no longer threatening. Just… waiting.
"You've seen the truth," he said. "So choose."
The vial pulsed at her waist—the last drop of divine blood. The tree behind them trembled, waiting for its fate.
Eira took a deep breath.
Then she stepped forward.
"I choose to end it."
She flung the vial into the crystal roots. As it shattered, a blinding light erupted, consuming the tree, the tomb, and the king. The entire chamber shook as the power unraveled, unraveling the last tether to the curse that had bound their world.
The First King smiled—then turned to ash.
The Collapse
Lucien caught her as the platform broke apart beneath her feet. "Eira!"
"I'm okay," she murmured. "We have to go. Now."
The others were already running, the walls cracking, the cavern collapsing. Magic twisted the air, warping the stone. Eira led them upward, toward the broken sanctum's edge.
Behind them, the blood crown crumbled. And something older and deeper—the last of the city's true curse—died with it.