Chapter 9 - The Siege of the Obsidian Throne
Dawn was beginning to break over Oakhaven, painting the bruised morning sky in shades of bruised purple and burning gold.
The massive iron gates of the Royal Citadel—thick enough to withstand a month of continuous siege artillery—did not stand a chance.
Kaelen rode the great wyvern straight through the center of the gatehouse. With a single blast of concentrated solar breath from the beast, the iron doors melted into molten slag, pouring into the courtyard below.
Behind Kaelen marched a growing army of citizens, freed slaves, and lower-district rebels who had rallied to his banner overnight, inspired by the legend of the returning Solari heir. But they didn't need to fight; Kaelen’s presence alone was enough to shatter the morale of the royal garrison.
He dismounted at the grand staircase leading up to the throne room, walking alone up the steps while the guards dropped their spears and fled in terror.
The heavy mahogany doors of the throne room stood open. Inside, King Vane sat alone upon his obsidian throne. The crown was tilted on his head, his royal robes rumpled, and a silver goblet of wine lay spilled upon the marble floor. He looked old, pathetic, and utterly defeated.
Kaelen walked slowly up the dais, his boots clicking softly against the pristine marble. The golden runes on his arms glowed with a steady, magnificent light.
Vane looked up, snarling like a cornered beast. "You think you win? If you kill me, the kingdom falls into chaos! The lords will tear each other apart!"
"The kingdom won't fall," Kaelen said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "It will heal."
Before Vane could lunge with the poisoned dagger hidden in his sleeve, Kaelen raised his hand. A beam of warm, golden light enveloped the king.
Vane screamed as the dark, parasitic magic that had artificially extended his family’s youth and power for generations was forcefully ripped from his soul. The king collapsed onto the steps of his throne, aging twenty years in the span of a single heartbeat, his hair turning stark white, his skin wrinkling into parchment.
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The Sunstone Crown slipped from his head, tumbling down the steps to rest gently at Kaelen’s feet.
Kaelen looked down at the crown, then out the shattered stained-glass windows toward the rising sun illuminating the rooftops of Oakhaven. The nightmare was finally over.
