All Chapters of The Howling Throne: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

From the shattered remains of the monolith, the being known as Velora emerged, a force of primordial power, the last entity to ever stand against Erythos. Their presence was overwhelming, neither wholly human nor divine, and their gaze fell upon Elior and his companions with an intensity that bent reality itself.Velora spoke in a voice that reverberated through the air, asking a single question: "Why have you woken me?"Myrra stepped forward, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "Erythos is returning. The Final Seal is nearly broken. We need your help."A silence followed, stretching between them like an unspoken challenge. Then Velora spoke, their voice measured and grim. "You do not understand what you ask. The Howling Throne, the cycle of rulers, the very foundation of your world, it was never meant to be."Elior’s breath hitched. "What do you mean?"Velora’s eyes burned with something ancient and sorrowful. "The First King did not merely seal Erythos away. He forged

The ruins of the Final Seal trembled with an otherworldly force, the very fabric of reality stretching thin as ancient glyphs flickered like dying stars. The sky above twisted, swirling in a vortex of crimson and black, a herald of something monstrous clawing its way back into existence. Elior and his companions barely made it through the threshold when the ground beneath them lurched violently.The air was suffocating, heavy with a pressure that pressed against their bones. Sienna stood at the center of it all, her arms raised before the fractured seal. Power surged through her veins like liquid fire, crackling and twisting the very air around her. And yet, she was shaking.Erythos’ voice wove around her, insidious and inescapable. "The moment is upon us, Sienna. The throne is yours. The world is yours. Complete the ritual."Her fingers hovered above the final glyph, the last tether keeping the ancient god bound. But something held her back. The visions had been relentless, carving t

The air cracked like thunder as Erythos turned his full fury on Elior. The sheer force of his gaze weighed on the battlefield, pressing down like an unseen mountain. The sky churned, black clouds twisting into unnatural shapes, and the ground beneath Elior’s feet trembled as if recoiling from the god’s wrath.With a mere gesture, Erythos hurled Elior back. The impact sent him skidding across the broken ruins, stones shattering beneath his weight. Rael and Bram rushed to his side, barely able to keep their footing as the battlefield itself twisted and cracked."We can’t keep this up!" Rael gritted his teeth, yanking Elior to his feet. "We’re fighting something that shouldn’t even exist!"Elior wiped blood from his mouth, forcing himself to stay upright. "If we don’t fight, there won’t be anything left."A great wind howled across the ruins, carrying with it the scent of burning stone and something deeper, something old. Erythos’ power was warping reality itself. Trees that had stood fo

Silence.Not the peaceful kind that follows a battle well won, nor the stillness of an early dawn. This was the silence of something broken, something vast and incomprehensible that had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow absence behind.The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ruins, once ancient and imposing, were reduced to charred fragments, their sacred stones blackened by the celestial fire that had consumed Erythos. The air was thick with the scent of ash and the lingering echoes of divine fury. Even the sky, once torn open by the god’s awakening, hung heavy with dark, unmoving clouds, as if the heavens themselves had yet to understand what had just transpired.Elior stood in the center of it all, his sword still clenched in his shaking hand. His body was battered, his limbs aching from wounds he had no memory of receiving. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a crushing tide, but he could not move, not yet.Erythos was gone. Severed. Banished from the world foreve

The capital was unraveling.Elior had known it from the moment they passed through the gates.The sky hung heavy and gray, as if the heavens themselves hesitated to move forward into a new day. The streets, once bustling with life, were thick with uneasy silence, broken only by hurried whispers and the occasional sharp cry of panic. Mages clustered in groups, their robes in disarray, their hands twitching as they attempted and failed to summon even the simplest of spells. Merchants and nobles alike watched with growing dread, their power, both political and literal, slipping through their fingers like sand.Magic was fading. And the world did not know how to survive without it.Rael strode ahead of the group, his expression unreadable, but Elior could see the tension in his shoulders. He was returning not as a warrior, not as a wandering hunter, but as the late king’s son, one who would have to answer for the chaos left in their wake.The palace loomed before them, its towers once gle