Aren woke with a gasp.
Cold sweat covered his body.
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the dormitory window, illuminating the room in a warm golden glow.
For several moments, he simply sat there.
Breathing.
Trying to calm his racing heart.
The dream felt real.
Far too real.
Even now, after waking, he could still picture every detail.
The endless darkness.
The enormous black throne.
The ancient symbols carved across its surface.
And most disturbing of all—
The voice.
“At last…”
The words echoed through his mind as clearly as if they had been spoken seconds ago.
Aren rubbed his face.
“It was just a dream.”
The statement sounded reasonable.
Normal.
Yet something deep inside him refused to believe it.
Because ordinary dreams didn’t leave behind memories this vivid.
Ordinary dreams didn’t make his chest feel heavy.
Ordinary dreams certainly didn’t feel older than history itself.
He climbed out of bed and walked toward the window.
Outside, Astryx Academy was beginning to wake.
Students crossed the pathways below.
Floating lanterns drifted through the morning air.
Everything appeared perfectly normal.
Unfortunately, Aren no longer felt normal.
The strange feeling remained throughout breakfast.
And during his walk to class.
And even after he entered Professor Selene’s classroom.
Mira noticed immediately.
She always seemed to notice things.
“You look worse.”
Aren dropped into his seat.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Mira frowned.
“Didn’t sleep?”
Aren hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“Sort of.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie.
He had slept.
At least physically.
Mentally was another matter entirely.
The dream felt more like an experience than actual sleep.
Mira continued watching him.
“You had a nightmare.”
It wasn’t a question.
Aren sighed.
“Something like that.”
Before she could ask further questions, Professor Selene entered.
The lesson began.
For once, Aren was grateful.
Anything was better than explaining the throne.
Because how exactly was he supposed to explain that?
Hello, I dreamed about an ancient throne in an endless void and it spoke to me.
No.
That conversation would not end well.
The morning lesson focused on magical history.
Most students considered it one of the easier subjects.
Memorization.
Dates.
Historical events.
Simple.
At least compared to advanced magical theory.
Professor Selene stood before the class.
Today’s topic appeared on the board behind her.
The Age of Sovereigns
Aren immediately felt uneasy.
The title sounded familiar.
Not because he had studied it.
Because it reminded him of the throne.
An irrational connection.
Yet the feeling persisted.
Professor Selene began speaking.
“Thousands of years ago, before the formation of modern kingdoms, the world was ruled by individuals known as Sovereigns.”
Students quickly started taking notes.
“They were beings of extraordinary power.”
Images appeared behind the professor.
Ancient ruins.
Lost cities.
Broken monuments.
“Many records have been lost over time.”
The images shifted.
“Their civilization vanished during an event historians still struggle to explain.”
Aren’s attention sharpened.
For some reason, every word felt important.
Professor Selene continued.
“Only fragments remain.”
She gestured toward a faded illustration.
The moment it appeared, Aren froze.
The picture depicted an ancient hall.
Most of it was ruined.
Collapsed.
Destroyed.
Yet one object remained visible near the center.
A throne.
But similar.
Very similar.
His heartbeat quickened.
“Are you alright?”
Mira’s voice came quietly from beside him.
Aren realized he had been staring.
“I…”
He stopped.
What could he possibly say?
That an illustration from a history lesson resembled something from a dream?
It sounded ridiculous.
So he simply nodded.
“I’m fine.”
Mira clearly didn’t believe him.
Fortunately, she didn’t press further.
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur.
Aren struggled to concentrate.
Every mention of ancient civilizations reminded him of the throne.
Every discussion about lost history raised new questions.
When class finally ended, he felt relieved.
Until Professor Selene called his name.
“Aren.”
His relief vanished instantly.
Several students looked toward him.
Including Mira.
“Stay behind for a moment.”
Wonderful.
Exactly what he needed.
More attention.
As the classroom emptied, Aren approached the professor’s desk.
Professor Selene studied him carefully.
Not for the first time.
Not even close.
Yet today felt different.
More focused.
More serious.
“Have you been sleeping well?”
Aren blinked.
That was not the question he expected.
“Why?”
The professor folded her arms.
“You seem distracted.”
Aren hesitated.
“I had a strange dream.”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Immediately he regretted speaking.
Professor Selene’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“A strange dream.”
“Nothing important.”
“What kind of dream?”
Aren’s instincts screamed at him to stay quiet.
For some reason, discussing the throne felt dangerous.
Not physically.
Just…
wrong.
So he shook his head.
“I don’t really remember.”
It was a terrible lie.
The professor clearly recognized it.
Yet surprisingly, she let the matter drop.
“Very well.”
Aren relaxed slightly.
Then she added:
“If the dream returns, tell me.”
His stomach tightened.
Why would she say that?
Before he could ask, Professor Selene dismissed him.
The conversation left him more unsettled than before.
That evening, Aren decided to visit the Grand Library.
He needed answers.
Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what questions he should ask.
The library remained as magnificent as ever.
Towering shelves stretched endlessly upward.
Magical lights floated overhead.
Students quietly studied throughout the building.
Aren headed directly toward the historical archives.
Hours passed.
Book after book.
Record after record.
Most contained nothing useful.
The Age of Sovereigns remained poorly documented.
Entire centuries appeared missing.
Many texts contradicted one another.
Others contained obvious myths.
Yet one detail appeared repeatedly.
The Throne.
Different names.
Different descriptions.
But always a throne.
Some records called it the Seat of Dominion.
Others referred to it as the First Throne.
One damaged manuscript simply called it the Black Throne.
Aren stared at the words.
A chill ran down his spine.
The Black Throne.
That matched what he had seen.
Almost perfectly.
Slowly, he turned the page.
Unfortunately, the remainder of the document had been destroyed.
The missing section appeared intentionally removed.
Someone had cut the pages out centuries ago.
“Of course.”
Night fell.
Students gradually returned to their dormitories.
Aren eventually did the same.
Despite his exhaustion, he dreaded sleep.
Because sleep meant dreams.
Dreams meant the throne.
Yet eventually fatigue won.
His eyes closed.
Darkness claimed him.
And once again—
He found himself standing within the void.
The endless darkness stretched beyond sight.
Silent.
Ancient.
Unchanging.
Far ahead stood the throne.
Waiting.
This time it seemed closer.
Much closer.
Aren’s heart pounded.
Yet unlike before, he wasn’t alone.
Shadows surrounded the throne.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Countless figures knelt before it.
Their forms remained unclear.
Ghostlike.
Faded.
As though they belonged to another age.
None moved.
None spoke.
They simply knelt.
Facing the throne.
Aren took a cautious step forward.
The shadows immediately turned toward him.
Thousands of unseen eyes fixed upon him simultaneously.
The pressure was overwhelming.
Then a voice echoed across the darkness.
Not the throne’s voice.
Someone else’s.
A woman.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Filled with sorrow.
“You came too soon.”
Aren froze.
The shadows trembled.
The throne remained silent.
The woman’s voice continued.
“The seal is breaking.”
Aren looked around.
“Who are you?”
No answer.
Instead, fragments of light appeared throughout the void.
Images.
Memories.
A burning city.
A shattered sky.
Countless warriors falling.
An enormous golden gate collapsing.
The scenes flashed by too quickly to understand.
Yet each carried overwhelming emotion.
Loss.
Fear.
Desperation.
And regret.
Then came the final image.
A figure sitting upon the throne.
Its face hidden by darkness.
Its presence alone made the world seem small.
The image lasted only a moment.
Then everything shattered.
The void cracked.
The throne vanished.
The shadows disappeared.
And the woman’s voice whispered one final warning.
“Do not let him awaken.”
Aren bolted upright.
Breathing heavily.
The room was dark.
Moonlight streamed through the window.
His heart hammered inside his chest.
The dream felt even more real than the previous one.
And this time—
There had been a warning.
A direct warning.
“Do not let him awaken.”
The words echoed endlessly in his mind.
Aren stared into the darkness.
Questions filled his thoughts.
Who was the woman?
Who was “him”?
What was awakening?
And why did all of it seem connected to him?
Far away, deep beneath Astryx Academy, ancient runes carved into forgotten stone walls flickered briefly.
Hidden chambers stirred.
Seals weakened.
And for the second night in a row, a presence sleeping beyond history opened its eyes just a little wider.
Waiting.
Watching.
Remembering.