Location: Aeon Ascension Chamber – Skyward Apex, Tavara
Each step Nora and Damien took shimmered beneath them, glowing with memories carved in gold and silver—of kingdoms risen, lovers lost, battles won, and sacrifices made. The stairway felt endless, suspended in a celestial expanse with no ground or ceiling, only radiant mist and floating fragments of time.
Damien's grip on Nora's hand never faltered.
"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice steady but raw.
Nora nodded. "Together."
As their feet touched the final step, the mist parted, revealing a circular platform. In the center, a throne stood—not just any throne. Forged from both starlight and shadow, it pulsed with the heartbeat of the realm. Symbols hovered in the air, whispering in forgotten tongues.
The Aeon Throne.
It recognized them both.
Two beams of light shot from the heavens, one bathing Damien in a crimson halo, the other enveloping Nora in ethereal blue. Opposing forces—power and healing, vengeance and justice—finally standing side by side.
A voice—ancient, genderless, resonant—filled the chamber.
"Heir of War. Heir of Wisdom. Kneel."
They obeyed.
The voice continued, "Balance is not born. It is forged. One cannot rule without the other. Do you accept this bond—of throne and soul, of fate and love?"
Damien turned to Nora. "I've crossed battlefields and bled in silence. But none of that compares to standing here beside you."
Nora's eyes brimmed with tears. "And I've healed thousands, yet never felt complete—until I found you."
"Then let it be written."
The throne split into two—interlocking, separate yet whole. As they stood, it shaped itself around their presence, adapting to their essence.
Damien sat in the Throne of Flame. Nora in the Throne of Light.
A burst of energy radiated from them, shaking the heavens.
Below, in Tavara and beyond, the skies changed. Blue fire lit the horizon. Bells rang in the ancient temples. The descendants of old bloodlines dropped to their knees. Even in enemy strongholds, leaders paused, sensing something irreversible.
A new age had begun.
Suddenly, a shimmer of mist solidified before them.
Damien's father.
Not the man who betrayed him—but the younger version. The one who once held dreams in his eyes before they turned cold.
The figure spoke softly. "My son… you've done what I could not."
Then another form appeared—Elara, Nora's mother, radiant in the garb of a High Oracle.
She walked to her daughter, brushed her cheek. "The throne chose right. I'm proud of you, child."
Tears slid down Nora's face.
More spirits of the past surrounded them—their ancestors, bound to the Aeon Throne until the rightful heirs returned. One by one, they bowed.
The voice returned.
"But the throne demands more. The blood of kings has returned. Now it must protect, not rule."
A final test.
The throne pulsed and began to rise—breaking apart into millions of shards. Each flew outward across the globe.
"What's happening?" Nora gasped.
Damien clenched his fists. "It's decentralizing the power… giving every corner of the world a piece of the legacy."
And then—peace.
Silence.
When they opened their eyes again, they stood on a grassy hill beneath a starlit sky. The Aeon Throne was gone. But something had shifted inside them. They could feel it—like the weight of a crown without ever wearing one.
A new beginning had dawned