The Fall of the Throne Begins Thomas’s hand moved toward the sword. The moment stretched. Silent. Heavy. Like the entire universe was holding its breath. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. The blade hovered before him, glowing faintly with ancient light. Not warm. Not cold. Something older than emotion itself. Behind him—nothing. Ahead of him—the end of everything. Then Ava’s voice cut through the silence. “Thomas…” Soft. Fragile. But steady. He stopped. Just barely. The chains around his projection flickered. The Throne reacted immediately. BOOOOOOM! A wave of pressure pushed through the connection. Thomas winced. But didn’t move. Then Ava stepped forward again. This time closer. Closer to the sword. Closer to him. “You’re not doing this alone.” Silence. Thomas shook his head. “You don’t understand what this does.” Ava frowned. “I understand enough.” Cassian exhaled behind her. Rowan folded his arms. Eryx watched carefully. Val
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