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CHAPTER 27 — The Choosing of the Gate
The platform rose from the ash like an ancient monolith — silent, towering, and impossibly old. As Dragonsong approached it, the ground vibrated beneath each step, as if the world itself recognized him.
Arin followed closely, heart pounding. "Are we sure this Gate even chooses anything? It feels like walking into the throat of a dragon."
The Herald did not laugh.
"It does not choose lightly. It chooses truth."
"And truth sucks," Arin muttered under his breath.
Dragonsong stepped onto the first obsidian stair.
The world changed instantly.
The ash-filled wind vanished.
The golden cracks in the sky quieted.
The whispers of consumed souls fell silent.
Everything froze…
…except him.
Arin shouted his name, but his voice didn't reach. He was outside of time, a statue trapped behind invisible glass.
The Herald placed a calm hand on Arin's shoulder.
"He has entered the Eye of Judgment," she whispered. "None but the chosen may walk that place."
Arin clenched his fists. "He's alone, then?"
"No." Her eyes flickered to the sky. "He is never alone."
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Inside the frozen world
Dragonsong stood upon the circular stone platform. As he reached the center, a pulse of energy surged upward, swallowing him in black-gold light.
Then—
He was somewhere else entirely.
The Cinder Gate vanished.
The wasteland vanished.
Even the air felt different.
He stood in a vast chamber of cracked stone, its walls shifting like molten glass. In the center sat the Ash Throne, jagged and burning faintly with ember-light.
And on that throne…
…sat the Sovereign.
Not fully formed. Not completely awake.
A silhouette of shadow and molten veins — like a man sculpted from the end of the world.
His voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere:
"You walk where you were forbidden."
Dragonsong felt no fear. Only the steady weight of destiny pressing against his bones.
"You've broken your chains."
The Sovereign's eyes brightened, two suns bleeding gold.
"Chains are for those who can be contained."
He stood, each movement sending ripples of black fire across the chamber.
"You come seeking your role."
Dragonsong raised his chin. "I came to end this."
"End?" The Sovereign stepped closer. He was taller, broader, heavier — a presence meant to fill a world. "Little spark… you were made for continuation, not rebellion."
"I am not you."
"You are exactly me," the Sovereign murmured. "You carry my echo. My mind. My birth. You are my shadow… and shadows cannot kill their light."
Dragonsong did not step back.
He didn't blink.
"Then why do you sound afraid?"
The Sovereign's jaw clenched. The chamber trembled. Cracks raced across the molten floor like lightning.
"I fear nothing."
Dragonsong lifted a hand — and a streak of white-silver flame sparked in his palm.
"Then face me."
For the first time, the Sovereign paused.
Not from hesitation.
From realization.
"They taught you defiance…"
His voice sharpened.
"The mortals twisted you into something they thought could oppose me. But they have only made you suffer. You belong at my side."
Dragonsong's flame grew brighter.
The Sovereign extended a hand — not threatening, but offering.
"Stand with me, and together we reshape the world that broke us both."
Dragonsong stared at the hand.
For a moment, he saw what the Sovereign promised:
A world without fear.
A world forged in fire and strength.
A world where he didn't have to be alone.
But then he remembered Arin.
The laughter.
The stupidity.
The loyalty.
The humanity.
He closed his fist, extinguishing the flame — only to ignite a brighter one.
"Your world would kill everything that makes life worth living."
The Sovereign's expression turned cold.
"Then you choose death."
"Not mine," Dragonsong said.
"Yours."
The Sovereign roared, and the chamber collapsed into pure fire.
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Outside the Gate
Arin flinched as a shockwave exploded from the platform.
The sky split open again — wider than before — bleeding gold light like a wound that refused to close.
The Herald covered her mouth.
"It has begun."
Arin's voice shook. "What has begun?"
"The struggle for one soul…" she whispered, trembling.
"And the fate of the world."
END OF CHAPTER 27
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