Corrupted Throne

The hallway was quiet. Cold stone walls surrounded Duke as he walked slowly, still rattled from what he had endured.

A door was slightly ajar.

Inside sat Miss Violet, alone, reviewing a scroll by candlelight. Her violet eyes flicked up as Duke approached.

"You came," she said simply.

Duke nodded, hesitant. "Ma'am…"

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Duke lowered himself into it slowly. His muscles still ached. His palms were sweaty.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The flicker of the candle was the only sound.

Then Violet asked, her tone calm but sharp, "What did you see in the Void Room?"

Duke lowered his gaze.

He placed a trembling hand over his chest.

"Everything," he whispered.

She said nothing. Just listened.

"I saw\... Jax," Duke said, voice shaking. "The night he died. Over and over again. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I was just... there. Watching. Helpless."

His fingers curled into a fist.

"That hammer… the snow… her voice. That masked girl. The things she said. The way she kicked me. Like I was nothing."

His voice cracked.

"I thought I was past it. But in there… it was like I was still stuck. That moment… it's still inside me."

He looked up slowly. "Is that what the Void does? Does it… force us to relive the worst parts of ourselves?"

Violet leaned back slightly, arms folded.

"No," she said. "The Void reveals what you've buried. It doesn't invent anything. It only shows what's already there."

Duke went quiet.

Then Violet spoke again—softer this time. "And it's not weakness to break in front of it. It's human."

"But I don't want to be weak," Duke muttered, eyes burning. "I want to be strong. Strong enough that no one ever dies in front of me again."

Violet gave him a long, unreadable look.

Then she said, "That's a good reason. But strength isn't about not breaking, Duke."

She leaned forward.

"It's about what you do **after** you break."

Duke sat there, frozen—absorbing her words.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel judged.

He felt… understood.

"This happened four days ago, didn't it?" she asked, her eyes steady and sharp.

Duke gave a faint nod. "Yes, ma'am."

She leaned back slightly, her tone unreadable. "I've seen the report. The white-haired masked girl, the brute with the hammer… and the third one. All three are on the kingdom's most-wanted list."

Duke looked down, jaw clenched.

Violet continued, her voice low but unwavering.

"The Void Room… it's not just a test of focus. It's a mirror. It drags your fears into the open and makes them feel real—too real."

She paused, then added with quiet intensity:

"For someone like you, that's going to be especially hard."

Duke's hand unconsciously gripped the edge of the chair.

"You're carrying something heavy, and the Void will keep digging at it. It'll twist your pain. Replay it. Multiply it."

He swallowed. "So what do I do?"

Miss Violet met his eyes.

"You face it. Over and over, until it loses its power. Until *you* take control. But make no mistake, Duke…"

Her voice dropped an octave—cool and firm.

"It's going to be one of the hardest things you've ever done."

Miss Violet gave him one last glance.

**"Now go. Take some air."**

Her voice was calm—but carried a final note of care beneath the firmness.

Duke stood. "Okay, ma'am."

He stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The hallway was quiet. The torchlight along the walls flickered gently, casting long shadows on the cold stone floor. Duke walked slowly, each step still heavy from what he had faced inside the Void.

His breath came a little easier—but the memory still clung to him like a second skin.

Then—

**"Hey."**

A voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Jack stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

Duke blinked. "Jack?"

Jack pushed off the wall and walked toward him, eyes scanning Duke's face.

"You alright?"

Duke gave a faint, tired smile. "Not really."

Jack chuckled softly, then gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"Didn't think so."

They stood in silence for a moment.

Then Jack added, more serious this time, "I heard you screamed in there."

Duke looked down. "Yeah."

Jack didn't say anything for a beat. Then—

"It's okay, you know. You're not the only one carrying stuff."

Duke looked up, surprised.

Jack shrugged. "We're all cracked somewhere. That Void Room just knows where to hit."

Duke finally gave a small, genuine smile.

"Thanks, man."

SCENE – WALKING THE GROUND

The sun was beginning to dip behind the fortress walls, casting long amber shadows across the training grounds. The air was cooler now, touched by the scent of grass and stone.

Touka walked alongside Samaira, their boots crunching softly against the gravel.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Touka broke the silence, eyes fixed ahead.

**"I didn't expect you to learn it in one day."**

Samaira turned to her, slightly surprised.

Touka glanced sideways, her voice calm but curious.

**"How did you do it, Samaira? The Void Room… it doesn't just show illusions. It pulls out everything inside you. Did you really overcome all that in thirty minutes?"**

Samaira exhaled through her nose. Her gaze drifted toward the horizon, far away.

**"It wasn't thirty minutes,"** she said softly.

**"It felt like years."**

Touka's brows lifted faintly, listening.

Samaira continued, voice low.

**"Each night, I've been waking up to different versions of myself. Trapped. Screaming. Hiding. Failing."**

She looked down at her hands.

**"That place… that room didn't feel like training. It felt like complete isolation. Like being buried inside your own mind—with no way out."**

She paused, then added:

**"I didn't beat my fears in thirty minutes, Touka. I've been losing to them for a long time. But… something clicked in there. For the first time, I didn't run."**

Touka studied her quietly. Something unreadable flickered in her expression—respect, perhaps… or something deeper.

**"So you stood your ground."** Her voice was quiet now.

**"Even when the ground was falling apart beneath you."**

Samaira gave a faint nod. "Yeah."

A silence settled between them again—soft, but meaningful.

Then Touka said, more to herself than anyone,

"Maybe you're stronger than I thought."

Samaira smiled gently.

The soft breeze rustled across the open ground as Touka and Samaira walked side by side, silence stretching between moments of reflection.

Then—

"Hey! Mind if I join you two?"

Lysa jogged up, a little breathless but smiling.

Samaira turned with a gentle nod. "Sure, why not?"

Touka gave a small shrug, nonchalant. "It's your feet."

Lysa fell in step beside them, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"So…" she glanced between the two, eyes lingering on Samaira. "How did you overcome your fears? Honestly, I thought I wasn't coming out today."

Samaira smiled faintly, but her expression carried weight.

"It wasn't easy," she said.

"In there, every second stretches. The fear feels real. Too real. But… I just kept reminding myself it wasn't the end. That it was a test—of will, not just strength."**

Lysa nodded slowly. "Still... you were floating. Like, *actually glowing*. It was kind of amazing."

Samaira chuckled, modest. "I didn't even notice. I was just trying not to fall apart."

Touka stayed quiet for a moment, then glanced toward Lysa.

"What did you see in there?"

Lysa blinked. The question caught her off-guard.

She hesitated, then said softly,

"My little brother. Back home."

Her voice wavered a little.

"He used to cry when I left for training. In the Void… he was begging me not to go. I kept walking away. No matter how many times I turned around… he was always crying."

The air around them grew still.

Touka looked ahead again, her voice unusually gentle.

"The Void doesn't lie. It only shows what we try to forget."

Lysa nodded, eyes down. "I know." She gave a brave little smile.

"But I'm still here. So maybe… that means something, right?"

Samaira placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.

"It does. It means you're stronger than your fears."

The three of them walked on, quietly—different fears, different pasts, but for the first time, not alone.

Lysa tilted her head curiously, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Can you use your energy now?"

Samaira looked down at her palms, flexing her fingers slightly.

"I feel like I can," she said slowly.

"Let's see if it works."

Touka's voice cut in sharply.

"I don't think you should try it without guidance."

She kept her tone even, but her mind raced.

It's going to be dangerous using it for the first time…

But Samaira was already focusing.

She took a steady breath and raised her hands. Her gaze sharpened with determination.

Suddenly, a faint glow flickered to life in her palms—deep crimson, almost blazing red, like smoldering coals brought to life.

Touka's eyes widened slightly.

A fire-type Kendra energy?she thought. That's rare…

Lysa's mouth parted in awe, her eyes wide and shining.

"Wow…"

The flames danced in Samaira's hands—bright, wild, and unsteady.

Then—

"Ahhh!"

Samaira flinched and quickly pulled her hands back. The glow vanished in an instant.

She clutched her right hand, teeth clenched in pain.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Lysa cried, rushing toward her.

Touka stepped forward, already analyzing.

**"Her hand's burnt,"** she said calmly, though her brows were slightly furrowed.

Samaira let out a shaky breath.

**"I'm fine. I just lost focus."**

The back of her hand was red, skin slightly blistered where the energy had flared out of control.

Touka crouched beside her, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You pushed it too fast."

Her voice was blunt, but not unkind.

Samaira laughed softly.

"Heheh… that was real fire."

Touka's eyes narrowed slightly, her tone flat.

"Powers are in the wrong hands, though."

"It was amazing," said Lysa, her eyes still wide with awe.

Meanwhile, in the woods…

"Woah… woo! I'm getting better at this. Hehe."

Derius grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

He looked down at his palm—Kendra Energy danced smoothly across his skin, swirling in a controlled, powerful current.

No surges. No slips. Just perfect mastery.

Then, without hesitation, he turned toward a massive stone boulder ahead.

"Tempest Strike."

The wind around him howled for a brief second.

But this time, it wasn't wild or chaotic—it was focused, sharpened not in direction, but in intensity.

Instead of scattering outward, the energy built up into a tighter, more devastating burst.

BOOM!

The strike hit the boulder head-on.

The entire thing exploded.

Completely obliterated—shattered into dust and flying debris.

Leaves shook in nearby trees as the shockwave rippled out.

Derius smirked, lowering his hand.

"That's more like it."

His control didn't reduce the power.

It amplified it.

"Tempest Strike… it's a kid's game now," he muttered.

"I need to develop something unique."