Forgotten king

A Silence That Shouldn't Be

The Sentinel fell.

Its golden radiance flickered—dimmed—until nothing but silence remained.

Jorath's breath caught. His mind refused to process what he had just witnessed.

Sentinels were immortal. Divine enforcers of the Eternal Dominion. They were beyond mortals, beyond time, beyond death itself.

Yet here one lay—cracked, broken, its celestial body crumbling like dust.

Eryndra pushed herself up, her voice hoarse. "Did he just—?"

She couldn't finish the sentence.

Because the answer was impossible.

But it had happened.

Thalos Arctur had done what no being in history had ever done.

He had killed a Sentinel.

The golden fragments of divine essence faded into nothingness. The light that had once burned with celestial fury was now… gone.

A weight settled in Jorath's chest, one that had nothing to do with fear—no, it was something deeper.

Something was wrong.

It wasn't just that a Sentinel had fallen. It was that the world itself had noticed.

And now, the world was reacting.

---

The Rift's Answer

Then—

The world screamed.

A low, guttural reverberation pulsed through the air, not a sound, but a force—something ancient, something vast, something that should never have been awakened.

The sky split apart.

It was like a wound had been torn open in the fabric of reality itself.

A fissure of black and violet carved through the heavens, twisting, writhing, expanding.

The very sight of it sent shivers down Jorath's spine. The space around them bent unnaturally, colors distorting as if the world itself was rejecting what was happening.

And then—a voice.

Deep. Resonant. Echoing from within the Rift itself.

"The law has been broken."

Jorath's heart nearly stopped.

Eryndra cursed. "Thalos—what the hell did you just do?!"

Still, Thalos did not answer.

His golden eyes remained fixed on the Sentinel's fading remains, his expression unreadable.

Jorath could feel it now—the shift in reality.

This wasn't just the death of a divine being.

This was a crime against the very foundation of existence.

And now, the Abyss had answered.

---

The Arrival of the Harbinger

A ripple of unearthly power pulsed outward.

Jorath's skin burned just being near it, as if something far beyond mortal comprehension was brushing against his very soul.

Then—it appeared.

A figure stepped through the fissure.

Taller than any human. Wreathed in flowing dark ether, adorned with chains of unknown origin.

Its face was hidden beneath a jagged, obsidian mask.

And when it spoke—

The world trembled.

"The Forsaken Throne calls to you, Ashen King."

Jorath's blood ran cold.

Eryndra went still.

Even she, with all her reckless bravado, knew what had come.

The Harbinger of the Abyss.

A messenger of the Rift itself.

And it had come for Thalos.

---

A Presence Beyond Comprehension

Jorath's body felt heavy.

As if something immense—something greater than the gods—was pressing down upon them.

The Harbinger's presence was unlike anything he had ever encountered.

Not raw power.

Not divine authority.

Something worse.

The sensation of standing before a force that didn't belong to any reality.

Something beyond gods. Beyond laws. Beyond existence itself.

The wind howled as the Rift pulsed behind the Harbinger, its void-like presence spilling into the world.

The creature took another step.

Chains rattled.

And with that single motion, the entire battlefield groaned.

Jorath clenched his fists. Move. Move, damn it!

But his body refused.

Even Eryndra, always so quick to act, remained frozen in place, her eyes locked onto the masked entity.

This thing… This was not a foe they could fight.

This was the voice of something far greater.

Something that should not exist.

And yet—it stood here now.

And it had spoken Thalos's name.

---

The Ashen King's Response

Jorath's gaze snapped back to Thalos.

The man hadn't moved.

Hadn't flinched.

He simply stood there, watching, as if he had been expecting this all along.

And then—he did something that terrified Jorath more than anything.

He smiled.

"Took you long enough."

The Harbinger tilted its head, as if studying him.

Then it spoke once more.

"The Forsaken Throne remains unclaimed."

The moment the words were spoken, the Rift behind it shuddered.

More voices—whispers—**countless, ancient, insidious—**spilled into the air.

The sky itself darkened.

The ground cracked beneath their feet.

And Jorath felt it again—that presence.

That feeling of something reaching out—something vast, unknowable, pulling at reality itself.

"You were meant to take your place."

The Harbinger raised a hand.

The chains coiled.

And the Rift expanded.

Something was coming.

Something far worse than a Sentinel.

Something that should never be allowed into this world.

Thalos exhaled.

Then—

He took a single step forward.

And the world shattered.