The skies above Eldoria darkened unnaturally as Zaria stood at the edge of the sacred cliffs of Ildareth, her golden eyes shimmering with the reflection of the storm brewing above. Behind her, the armies of light gathered—soldiers, mages, celestial knights, and mythical beasts alike—all ready to follow the heiress who had once been shunned, hunted, and broken.
But now? Now she was legend.
Eira, the Ice Guardian, approached her, bowing low. "They say the throne awakens only when the flame within the bloodline burns with righteous vengeance. You are that flame, my queen."
Zaria's voice was steady, but her soul trembled with the weight of prophecy. "Then it is time we reclaim what was stolen. Not for me—but for the forgotten, the silenced, and the fallen."
Far within the lost catacombs beneath the shattered city of Velmora, a hidden vault pulsed with energy. Surrounded by black stone etched with ancient sigils, the Forgotten Throne awaited. Long ago, it had been the seat of the first Empress of Eldoria, until betrayal cast her lineage into shadow. Only one of true blood, bearing the mark of the Phoenix, could awaken it.
Zaria had that mark.
And her enemies knew it.
As they approached the ruins of Velmora, a trap was sprung.
Shadow beasts, creatures of nightmare formed from the regrets of those who had perished unjustly, rose from the ground. Their eyes glowed crimson, and their claws cut through even enchanted steel. Chaos erupted as war cries split the air. The battle was fierce.
Zaria moved like a divine storm, blades blazing with holy fire, her cloak whipping like wings. Her body was battered, but her spirit burned hotter than ever. Each kill was a step closer to justice. Blood spilled, but not in vain.
Then came the roar.
A monstrous creature unlike anything they had faced emerged from the ruined cathedral—a Seraphim corrupted by void magic. It had once been a guardian of the old Empress. Now, twisted by centuries of rage and dark magic, it had become the final test.
Zaria alone stepped forward.
The beast lunged.
Time slowed.
Memories of her past—her mother's sacrifice, her father's execution, her betrayal by the High Council—flashed through her mind. She screamed, not in fear, but fury.
A golden aura burst from her chest, and ancient words ignited on her skin: "She Who Reclaims The Flame Shall Reforge the Realm."
She met the creature head-on, and when steel met void, light exploded across the sky.
When the dust settled, the monster lay silent, purified. Zaria knelt, exhausted but victorious.
The earth trembled.
The ruins parted.
From beneath the rubble, a staircase of light descended into the heart of the earth. At the bottom, the Forgotten Throne awaited—golden, adorned with phoenix feathers, pulsing with ancient warmth.
She placed her hand upon the armrest.
Fire rushed through her.
The skies cleared. Across the continent, people stopped—feeling it. The lost Empress had returned.
Zaria sat.
A crown forged in flame appeared above her head, and all knelt.
She whispered, "Let justice begin."