The wind in Varkhala never stopped. It howled like the voices of those who had been wronged, circling the ruined city long after its last citizens had turned to dust. Even as dawn crept over the skeletal skyline, the shadows seemed to move with purpose.

  But Arjun had changed.

  The fifth fragment—the Mirror of Choice—had embedded more than just power into his soul. It had opened a doorway inside his mind. He could now glimpse paths before they unraveled. Forks in fate. Yet each vision came with a price—uncertainty.

  He sat in silence, staring into a broken fountain near the palace. Its dry basin was now a pool of mirrored light. Not real water, not real reflection—just magic. And memory.

  “I saw you die.”

  The words escaped him before he realized he wasn’t alone.

  Ayra stood behind him, arms folded, blades at her hips. “I assumed as much. You woke up with a scream.”

  Arjun lowered his gaze. “The Mirror showed me futures… all of them filled with loss. Pain. You falling. Raaka screaming as something dragged him under. Elaran vanishing into mist.”

  “Then don’t let those futures come true.”

  He turned. “It’s not that simple. I don’t control all the paths. The system said I could glimpse outcomes—not alter them.”

  “But you still chose to keep going,” Ayra replied. “That’s what matters.”

  Before Arjun could respond, a voice echoed from the ruined gates.

  “Come quickly! There’s something buried beneath the city.”

  Raaka.

  By the time they reached him, he had already torn open a collapsed chamber near the outer wall. Elaran stood beside him, holding up a glowing rune stone, pulsing faintly with gold light.

  “I sensed this after the wraiths disappeared,” Elaran said. “There’s something ancient buried here. A vault sealed in time.”

  Ayra arched a brow. “Another test?”

  Arjun stepped forward. “No. A secret.”

  They descended together.

  The stairwell was narrow, winding downward in a spiral that never seemed to end. Moss clung to the stone walls, and the air grew colder with every step. Eventually, they emerged into a massive underground hall.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Torches lit automatically as they entered, burning with blue fire.

  The chamber was circular, its walls carved with murals. Depictions of kings and queens, of divine beings casting judgment upon mortals, of thrones bathed in both light and shadow.

  At the center stood a statue.

  A man in chains.

  Crowned.

  Arjun approached slowly, heart pounding. The statue bore no name. But the carvings below it told the story in an ancient dialect only the fragments could decipher.

  “To the first bearer of the Karmic Throne. Betrayer. Hero. Monster.”

  Elaran whispered, “This is him. The first. The one who forged the system.”

  Ayra looked around. “Then where’s his tomb?”

  Raaka tapped the floor. “Right beneath us.”

  With effort, they pried open a hidden seal. Dust billowed out, thick and suffocating. Within lay a sarcophagus, unlike any they’d seen before—made not of stone or metal, but of petrified bone.

  The moment Arjun touched the lid, the chamber trembled.

  [System Warning: Fragment Memory Detected – Initiating Sync…]

  Everything went white.

  He stood in another time.

  Not as Arjun, but as a witness.

  The chamber was the same, but unruined. Clean. Glorious. Before him stood the man from the statue—alive, breathing, draped in golden robes and bloodied armor.

  A council of divine beings surrounded him, eyes aflame with judgment.

  “You defied balance,” one boomed.

  “You gave mortals power beyond their comprehension,” said another.

  The man lifted his head. His voice was thunder and sorrow. “I did what you could not. I gave choice to those who had none.”

  A third god raised a hand. “And what did they choose? War. Betrayal. Madness.”

  The man stepped forward, unfazed. “And yet… some chose to rise. To protect. To build.”

  The gods conferred. Then, together, they struck him down—not with weapons, but with words.

  Curses. Bindings. Eternity.

  He fell, screaming.

  As the vision ended, Arjun heard his final whisper.

  “The throne was never meant to be sat upon. It is a mirror for the soul. What you bring into it… it amplifies.”

  Arjun gasped as he returned to the present.

  The others were around him, concerned.

  “What happened?” Ayra asked.

  “I saw him,” Arjun said quietly. “The first bearer. He created the system to offer freedom. But the gods hated that. They bound him here. Called him a traitor.”

  Raaka frowned. “So we’re following a cursed man’s path?”

  “No,” Arjun said, standing. “We’re finishing what he started.”

  He turned to the sarcophagus.

  There, embedded within the ribbed lid, was a new marking. A sixth fragment—but not one he could take yet. It shimmered, then vanished.

  [Karmic Fragment Locked – Requires Decision]

  [Choice Unlocked: Will you follow the path of the First Bearer or forge a new legacy?]

  Arjun stood silent.

  This wasn’t a battle.

  It was a philosophy.

  A question that would define everything ahead.

  “I don’t know yet,” he whispered. “But when the time comes, I will choose.”

  The chamber began to collapse.

  Raaka shouted, “Time to go!”

  They fled upward as the stone gave way behind them. When they emerged into the cursed streets of Varkhala, sunlight broke through the grey sky for the first time.

  The curse had lifted.

  But the burden had not.

  That night, they camped outside the city. Arjun stared into the fire, eyes reflecting flickering embers.

  Six fragments were within reach.

  But now, he understood.

  This journey was no longer just about power.

  It was about who he would become once he claimed the throne.