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Chapter 66: The Door of Eternity
Last Updated:
2025-04-01 17:43:00
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The Howling Throne Chapter 68: The War Begins
The moment Sienna unleashed her power, the world erupted into chaos.A wave of golden energy exploded from her palms, crackling like a living storm. Elior barely had time to react before the force slammed into him, sending him skidding backward across the glass-like surface. The impact rattled through his bones, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself upright.Sienna was no longer their ally.She stood beside Erythos now, her form wreathed in shimmering gold, the remnants of the shattered Seal swirling around her like a cloak of divine fury. She was no longer just a strategist, no longer just a wielder of magic, she was something more.A force to be reckoned with.Erythos, standing tall and terrible beside her, lifted his hand. The darkness that bled from his form coiled outward, consuming the light around them. “You were fools to think you could change fate,” he said, his voice reverberating across the void. “Fate belongs to those strong enough to claim it.”Elior tightened his g
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The void was endless.Elior’s breath caught in his throat as he plummeted through the swirling abyss. The battlefield was gone, the ground shattered beneath them, leaving only the vast nothingness of space stretching infinitely in all directions. Stars flickered in the distance, distant pinpricks of light in the consuming dark. Wind, if such a thing existed here, whipped past him, a formless force dragging him downward.Then, with a jarring pull, he stopped.The impact sent a sharp jolt through his body, but there was no ground beneath him, only the illusion of it, a shimmering platform of condensed magic holding him aloft. Around him, the others landed in a similar fashion, some less gracefully than others.Rael let out a sharp grunt as he hit the surface, rolling before pushing himself to his feet. His twin blades remained in his grip, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes, his stance uncharacteristically shaken.Bram hit hard, letting out a pained growl as he struggled to rise.
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The city stretched before them like a forgotten monument to a time long past. Towering spires, cracked and crumbling, reached toward the twilight sky, their surfaces worn smooth by the passage of ages. The streets were paved with obsidian stone, each step echoing unnaturally through the silence. Buildings leaned at odd angles, some suspended mid-collapse, held aloft by unseen forces. Shadows danced where no light shone, shifting as if aware of their presence.Elior took a slow breath, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. The city pulsed with power, not the raw, overwhelming might of Erythos, but something older, something watching.Rael exhaled sharply beside him. “Well, this place is cheerful.”Myrra’s gaze swept over the ruins, her fingers brushing the air as if testing for magic. “It’s not just a ruin. Something lingers here.”“Ghosts?” Bram asked, rolling his shoulders. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”“Not ghosts,” Myrra murmured. “Memories.”Elior stepped forward cautiously,
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Chapter 71The temple loomed before them, its towering pillars fractured but unbroken, the remnants of an age long past. Vines, blackened as if touched by fire, coiled around its base, pulsing faintly with an eerie glow. The grand entrance yawned open like a hungry maw, darkness swirling within. The air was thick, heavy, humming with something unseen yet felt.Elior hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, the echo of his footfalls swallowed by the void beyond. The others followed, their forms wreathed in flickering torchlight, their faces drawn but determined.Inside, the silence was absolute.A vast chamber stretched out before them, its ceiling lost to shadow. Enormous statues lined the walls, hooded figures, their hands outstretched in gestures of supplication or warning. The floor was smooth obsidian, polished to an unnatural sheen, reflecting the dim light in restless patterns. At the far end, an altar stood, carved from a single block of dark stone, inscribed with s
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The descent was endless.The stairway twisted downward, carved from smooth black stone that swallowed their torchlight. The air thickened with each step, pressing against their lungs like a weight, and a deep hum resonated through the walls, pulsing in time with their heartbeats.Elior led the way, his grip firm on his sword. He could feel the others close behind him, Rael’s steady presence, Myrra’s quiet breaths, Bram’s muttered curses. The stairway was ancient, untouched by time, yet it felt alive, shifting underfoot as if watching them, judging them.Then, at last, the stairs ended.They stepped into a cavernous hall, its ceiling vanishing into darkness. Pillars lined the chamber, each carved with spiraling glyphs that glowed faintly with a golden light. At the far end, a vast door stood, impossibly tall, its surface woven with countless interlocking symbols. But it was what lay before the door that made Elior stop short.A figure stood there, clad in robes of shimmering silver, th
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The tunnel beyond the massive door stretched on endlessly, its walls etched with ancient symbols that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of history, pressing against their chests with every step forward. Unlike the stairway above, which had been suffocating in its silence, the passageway hummed with a distant resonance, like whispers trapped beneath the stone.Elior took the lead, his fingers brushing against the wall as they walked, feeling the hum of energy coursing through the stone. Myrra followed closely behind, her eyes darting to the shifting patterns in the walls, muttering under her breath as she tried to decipher their meaning. Rael moved with calculated ease, his senses on high alert, while Bram kept a hand on his greatsword, scanning the darkness warily.The deeper they ventured, the more the tunnel began to change. The air warmed, the symbols brightened, and a scent, something metallic, something old, began to fill the space aroun
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The descent stretched on, a journey through a world untouched by time, where the past bled into the present, and the air itself seemed to watch them. Elior led the way, his boots scuffing against the uneven stone, his breath steady despite the weight pressing against his chest. Behind him, Myrra walked in quiet contemplation, her fingers trailing along the walls, tracing the flickering symbols as though they might whisper their secrets to her. Rael moved like a shadow, always alert, always ready, while Bram grumbled under his breath, his hand never straying far from his greatsword.The tunnel had changed. Where once it had been uniform stone, carved by careful hands, now the walls twisted and curved unnaturally, the carvings becoming erratic, chaotic. The pulse of the runes had settled into an irregular rhythm, like a dying heartbeat.Myrra stopped abruptly. "This isn’t right."Elior turned. "What do you see?"She gestured to the wall. "Look. These symbols, they were guiding us before
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The air in the chamber was heavier than before, thick with an unseen presence that pressed against their senses. Elior led the group through the passage, but this time his steps were slower, more cautious. The whispering from the last chamber had faded, but its words still lingered in his mind.Rael walked beside him, unusually quiet, his brows furrowed in thought. Myrra, as always, trailed her fingers along the ancient walls, tracing the sigils carved into the stone. Bram’s grip on his greatsword was tight, his posture rigid with unease.As they stepped forward, the passage widened into another chamber, this one illuminated by a deep crimson glow. The walls shimmered with pulsating veins of energy, branching out from a single point at the room’s center. There, resting on a raised pedestal of carved obsidian, lay a sword unlike any they had ever seen.It was long and sleek, its blade a deep shade of silver with veins of glowing red coursing through it, as if the weapon itself pulsed w
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The Howling Throne Chapter 125: The Last Dawn
The morning was quiet.For the first time in centuries, the world stood untouched by magic. No whispers of power hummed in the air, no lingering remnants of the forces that had once shaped destiny. The battle had ended, but the silence it left behind felt heavier than war.Elior stood at the heart of the ruins, his sword planted in the shattered ground. The bodies of those who had fought and fallen lay scattered around him, the echoes of their final moments still fresh in his mind.Myrra, who had been with him since the beginning. Bram, whose laughter had once made the darkest nights bearable. Freya, who had returned only to be taken once more.And Sienna.The wind moved through the ruins, stirring the dust. It carried no magic, no voice of the gods—only the weight of what had been lost.A faint groan pulled Elior from his thoughts. He turned to find Velora slumped against a broken pillar, her face pale, her body barely holding on.He knelt beside her. "Velora."She opened her eyes, s
The Howling Throne Chapter 124: The Final Reckoning
The sky above the ruins bled shadow and light, twisting in a chaos that defied reality. Where the veil had once held firm, now only a gaping wound remained, spilling its horrors into the world.Elior stood at the edge of the abyss, his sword trembling in his grasp, his breath ragged. Across from him, Sienna hovered above the cracked earth, her form wreathed in shifting darkness. Her golden eyes, once fierce with ambition, now pulsed with something else, something vast and unknowable.She had become its vessel.The force that had slumbered beyond the veil now coiled within her, filling the hollow spaces left by her lost magic, binding itself to her very soul. The entity did not speak in words, nor did it rage like the gods of old. It did not need to. It simply was, and it would remake the world in its image.A consuming will. An endless hunger.And Sienna had let it in."Elior," she said, her voice layered, as though more than one presence spoke through her. "You don’t have to fight me
The Howling Throne Chapter 123: The Breaking Veil
The moment Sienna’s fingers brushed against the unseen force, the world trembled. It was not a simple shift in the earth, not the groan of stone settling after centuries of silence—this was something else. A deep, resonating shudder rippled outward from the ruins, traveling through the bones of the world itself.Elior felt it as a pulse beneath his feet, a vibration in his chest that made his breath hitch. The air thickened, weighted with something ancient and wrong. The torches lining the ruined temple flickered violently, their flames bending toward Sienna as if drawn by an unseen tide."Sienna, stop!" Elior lunged forward, seizing her wrist and yanking her back. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, her golden eyes wide with shock."I… I didn’t mean to.." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.The stone beneath them cracked. A fissure split through the floor, black mist hissing out like breath from a slumbering beast. The world itself seemed to recoil, and then—A shoc
The Howling Throne Chapter 122: The Unseen Threshold
The ruins were breathing.Elior could not see it, but he could feel it, the slow, rhythmic pulse of something ancient beneath the stone. It was not the heartbeat of a slumbering god, nor the distant echo of Erythos' severed power. It was older. Deeper. A presence that did not simply exist but had always been.The whispers were everywhere now, slithering between the cracks in the walls, curling through the air like smoke. They were not words in any language Elior knew, but he understood them nonetheless.This was not a place of worship. It was a tomb.And the dead were stirring.Sienna stood at the edge of the ruins, staring into the yawning darkness beyond the shattered archway. The pull was stronger here, an invisible tether wrapping around her ribs, drawing her forward.She should have been afraid.She wasn't.Far behind them, the capital was unraveling.Rael sat in the royal chambers, hands clenched around the arms of his chair as voices clashed around him. The council was in chaos
The Howling Throne Chapter 121: The Stirring Dark
The wind howled through the fractured streets of the capital, carrying with it the scent of ash and the echoes of whispered fears. Elior stood at the palace balcony, watching the uneasy city below. Torches burned like scattered stars in the night, illuminating gathering crowds, desperate, restless, searching.They had fought for this world, yet standing here now, he wondered if they had merely unchained something far worse.Behind him, the council chamber erupted into another round of arguments.“We need action,” a noble snapped, his voice edged with panic. “If magic is failing, we must restore it—by any means necessary.”“And how do you propose we do that?” another countered. “Rituals? Blood sacrifices? We do not even know what is causing the unraveling.”Rael stood at the center of the storm, jaw clenched as he faced the gathered lords and scholars. “I understand your fear,” he said, voice steady despite the chaos. “But we will not turn to desperation. We need answers, not reckless
The Howling Throne Chapter 120: The Awakening Veil
The first signs of unraveling came in silence.Not the quiet of peace, but an unnatural stillness, a void where the hum of magic should have been.Elior felt it first as they rode through the city, making their way back to the palace. The air itself seemed thinner, as if the breath of the world had been stolen. He glanced toward Myrra, who clutched the remnants of the First King’s records in her hands, her expression tense.The streets were shifting. The capital, usually filled with merchants, performers, and spellcasters weaving their craft, had grown eerily subdued. Those who once relied on magic to shape their daily lives, the street magicians conjuring flames, the scribes who penned glowing runes, now stood idle, their gifts failing them.And then there was the whispering.It came in the wind, barely discernible, like voices speaking in forgotten tongues. Elior stiffened as a cold breath swept past his ear, the words twisting in ways his mind could not fully grasp."It is waking…"
The Howling Throne Chapter 119: Echoes of the Hollow Age
The capital was unraveling.Elior had known it from the moment they passed through the gates.The sky hung heavy and gray, as if the heavens themselves hesitated to move forward into a new day. The streets, once bustling with life, were thick with uneasy silence, broken only by hurried whispers and the occasional sharp cry of panic. Mages clustered in groups, their robes in disarray, their hands twitching as they attempted and failed to summon even the simplest of spells. Merchants and nobles alike watched with growing dread, their power, both political and literal, slipping through their fingers like sand.Magic was fading. And the world did not know how to survive without it.Rael strode ahead of the group, his expression unreadable, but Elior could see the tension in his shoulders. He was returning not as a warrior, not as a wandering hunter, but as the late king’s son, one who would have to answer for the chaos left in their wake.The palace loomed before them, its towers once gle
The Howling Throne Chapter 118: A Fractured Dawn
The battle was over.But dawn did not break with celebration.A pale light stretched across the sky, hesitant and thin, casting its glow over a ruined battlefield that still reeked of celestial fire and scorched stone. The remnants of divine fury clung to the air, unseen but heavy, pressing down on the weary figures that stood amidst the wreckage.Elior ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming away stained with blood, his or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. His sword, the weapon that had struck the final blow, felt heavier than ever at his side. The world should have felt lighter, freer, but something was wrong. The victory felt hollow, the silence too deep.Myrra knelt among the shattered remnants of the ancient tome, her fingers tracing the fading ink of the First King’s records. The final words were barely legible now, as though the knowledge itself had begun to wither.She exhaled sharply, gripping the pages. “The seal worked.” A tremor ran through her voice. “But something....
The Howling Throne Chapter 117: Ashes of the Divine
Silence.Not the peaceful kind that follows a battle well won, nor the stillness of an early dawn. This was the silence of something broken, something vast and incomprehensible that had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow absence behind.The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ruins, once ancient and imposing, were reduced to charred fragments, their sacred stones blackened by the celestial fire that had consumed Erythos. The air was thick with the scent of ash and the lingering echoes of divine fury. Even the sky, once torn open by the god’s awakening, hung heavy with dark, unmoving clouds, as if the heavens themselves had yet to understand what had just transpired.Elior stood in the center of it all, his sword still clenched in his shaking hand. His body was battered, his limbs aching from wounds he had no memory of receiving. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a crushing tide, but he could not move, not yet.Erythos was gone. Severed. Banished from the world foreve
