Novel & Cerita Through The Gates Of Splendor Audiobook

And it was with that last exchange that I started moving towards the dungeon, my smile wiping from my face the second she could no longer see me. …Because only pain awaited me ahead. Pain that stood just on the other side of a fake wall bookcase. A bookcase that I stopped to stare at briefly as I contemplated one last time if this really was the right decision. But I was out of time to decide. …And as I stepped into the barely lit room, I mentally prepared myself for what I knew was coming. “…Raven.” A voice. His voice. I knew it well now. It was something that never failed to send a shiver through me, a whisper in the tone that called to my soul. A beckoning to give in to the temptations th

I pat him on the shoulder before we pull apart. ------------- King Orrin's ashes lay in the jar, as every God in Serenacia stays present in the room, honouring the dead king. Octavius, the wizard of Gods, takes over the event, where Orrin takes part in burial ritual of spreading his father's ashes through the Holy line, so he can rest in peace. The signature of white attires compliments the hall, as both God and goddesses, pay due decorum and respect to the late king. My eye meets with Cicero, as the look on his face makes me feel even more guilty of knowing what I know, but still yet, I couldn't call it murder when it is indeed treason.

We moved toward the entrance. The gates loomed—towering iron masterpieces, their gilded thorns curling like beckoning fingers. At the center, a heart, split in two, gleamed under the moonlight, its gold edges sharpened like a blade. Behind it, marble walls stretched high, pristine yet ancient, their towering pillars casting long, watching shadows. The doors parted with a slow, echoing groan, the sound rolling through the night like a whispered omen. No welcome. No warmth. Just the gleaming mouth of a kingdom built on power, wealth—

he says. I can do nothing but gape in awe as excitement fills me once again. I feel like a newborn calf here by myself, and I wonder if I look as naïve as I feel. “Come, let’s go inside,” he says and the grand doors swing open with a hushed whisper, revealing the opulence that lay within. The entrance hall was a symphony of elegance, with polished marble floors gleaming beneath the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. Elaborate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting various scenes of magic, heroism, and unity.

Then slowly those strong large rocky gates departed into two making a huge disturbing sound. "Your every question's answer is her son." He indicated I follow him along. We reached a great hall with everything made up of blue crystals. We halted at a certain central point and he again shouted to chant a spell. "Domine, exaudi orationem meam!" He spelt something like that. Then the point where we were standing began to rupture. I was alarmed for a bit cause I have never experienced such things. Then something sparkling thing emerged from there.

My lungs seized—don’t hyperventilate, don’t you dare—I warned myself, before my eyes caught on the gates— the massive golden gates. Moonlight slid like oil over the gold bars, catching on the embossed letters: HAWTHORNE EMPIRE. Too grand. Too permanent. My fingers twisted in my coat fabric, the wool rough against my clammy palms. This is really happening. The buzz of the mechanism made my shoulders hitch. The gates parted with a whine, revealing a driveway too perfect, hedges cut with military precision. Unnatural. The car crept forward, and my exhale came out ragged, my breath fogging the window for half a second before vanishing.

“You chose reality over fantasy.” And Ronan just held her. They turned to the creature. She watched them all with quiet fury. “You’re not ready for what’s coming,” she said. “You’ve chosen the hard path. But that path leads to ruin.” Ava stepped forward. “Then we’ll face ruin together.” The creature vanished in a burst of violet flame. Beyond the Garden – The Next Gate The garden crumbled. And beyond it, a great gate stood—carved from the bones of stars, humming with power.

She pressed her palm to the center of the gate. The runes blazed to life. A deep tremor shook the ground, and the massive doors groaned apart. A rush of stale air poured out, thick with the scent of dust, age, and forgotten souls. They entered. Inside, the tomb stretched into darkness. Torches flickered to life as they passed, igniting in trails of blue flame along the walls. The light revealed murals, battles, coronations, betrayals. And at the center of it all, a crowned figure holding a sword of fire, bound in chains of shadow.

Millions of impossible choices. Elias smiled softly. "The Archive is showing you something." "What?" "Every choice..." "...that kept hope alive." The white key grew brighter. The Gate of Origins responded. A deep crack spread across its surface. Then another. The ancient stone slowly divided into two massive doors. A brilliant white light poured through the opening. Yet the light revealed nothing beyond. Only endless brilliance. The Last Editor suddenly shouted. "Stop!" Everyone turned. His calm expression had vanished. For the first time...

“I think.” The Gate responded to that. Not with logic. With attention. It leaned inward, not physically but conceptually, folding its impossible structure around my awareness. I felt its vast architecture the way one might feel the inside of their own skull—intimate, inescapable, known. For the first time since I had touched the throne, the Gate did not resist me. It listened. The throne-bearer backed away another step, composure fully fractured now. “This isn’t containment,” they whispered. “This is… integration.”