The chamber beyond the stone door was vast and still, cut from ancient rock, untouched by time or ruin.
The only light came from the Sword of Kings.
It rested on a pedestal of marble veined with gold, surrounded by a pool of still water. No dust. No decay. As if the room had waited, breathless, for this moment.
The sword shimmered, not just with reflected light, but with something deeper. Its blade was pale as starlight, etched with runes that shifted when Kai blinked. Its hilt, wrapped in silver and crystal, pulsed with the heartbeat of the land.
Kai stepped forward, the others behind him silent.
Elara whispered:
"This is not a weapon. It is a covenant."
He reached for the hilt
And the world shattered.
Kai stood alone, surrounded by swirling light and shadow. The chamber was gone.
Before him, a mirror hung in the void.
But the reflection was not his own.
Sgaazoz.
His face was carved from shadow, twisted with hate and triumph.
"You think you're ready?" the usurper hissed. "You! raised by trees and ghosts. You have no right to this blade."
Kai felt the air thicken, like drowning in doubt.
"You were abandoned," Sgaazoz said, circling him. "You were hidden because you were weak. They buried you like a secret."
Visions slammed into him
His lonely nights in the Everwood. His failures. The faces of those he couldn't save.
The whisper returned:
"You will never be enough."
His knees buckled. The light flickered. The sword felt a million miles away.
And then, another voice.
Not one, but many.
The voices of his ancestors.
His mother, singing beneath moonlight.
His father, standing proud in golden armor.
His people, faces unknown but hearts familiar.
"You are not the shadow," they said. "You are the flame."
Kai rose.
"You cannot break me," he said, turning to face the illusion. "Because I was never yours to destroy."
Sgaazoz bared his teeth.
"Then die with your pride."
He hurled a wave of dark fire.
Kai stepped into it.
The flames passed through him, not untouched, but unchained.
He reached forward, hand steady, and grasped the sword.
A surge of energy ripped through him, pure, radiant, alive.
The chamber returned.
The Sword of Kings blazed in his grasp. The runes glowed gold. The water boiled away in a ring of light. Kai's cloak lifted with the force of it, his hair swept back.
He felt them, the kings before him. Not voices now. Not whispers.
Presence.
They stood with him, through him. His strength was no longer just his own.
Kai turned to the others, the sword alight in his hand.
"Sgaazoz will fall," he said, voice low and steady. "And Eldoria will rise."
They bowed their heads, not in fear. In faith.
Outside, the wind stirred. The sky began to clear.
The king had claimed his crown.