Caspian stepped into the fifth and final chamber.
The air was thick, heavy with an oppressive weight.
The walls were gone, replaced by an endless black abyss stretching infinitely in all directions.
And in the center of it all—
A throne.
It stood on a floating platform of obsidian, twisted spires of black stone curling around its base like frozen tendrils.
And upon that throne sat a man.
No—a King.
His presence alone was suffocating.
A cloak of shifting darkness flowed around him, and his face was obscured by a helm made of jagged steel.
But Caspian could feel his gaze.
It was absolute.
A presence that demanded submission.
And then—
The King rose.
The ground beneath Caspian trembled as the King took a step forward.
His voice echoed, deep and commanding.
"Kneel."
A force crashed down on Caspian like an unbreakable tidal wave.
His knees almost buckled, his very bones vibrating from the sheer weight of the King's will.
But he gritted his teeth.
And he stood.
