The Shadow Queen Is Too Alluring—I Can't Handle This Anymore!
Chapter 88 – “The Chosen and the Cursed”

Chapter 88: Chapter 88 – “The Chosen and the Cursed”

Kael stood, eyes burning black.

Not pitch black—celestial black.Swirling galaxies, dying suns, curses made flesh.

His robes shimmered, threads of shadowfire crawling along the seams like veins. Around him, the broken tiles of the throne courtyard trembled—as if recognizing a new master.

Lyra took a single step forward.

"You were with me through everything," she said, voice shaking. "My father’s fall. My first death. My second awakening."

Kael tilted his head, smile too calm.

"I was your anchor. I had to be close. Otherwise the throne would’ve devoured you too soon."

The words tore through her chest—not because they were cruel, but because they sounded so... logical.

He hadn’t just betrayed her.He’d studied her.Loved her just enough to keep her alive. Hated her just enough to never let her win.

I should have known, she thought. Every look, every lie, every kiss... was a test.

But what shattered her the most—Part of her still wanted to believe in him.

Kael’s hand rose. The chains that once held him crumbled like paper. From his palm, a spiral of flame—colored not red, but void-purple—shot toward the throne.

The entire palace screamed.

Lyra flared her wings, intercepting the blast mid-air. It collided with her shield of runes—bursting into a cyclone of screaming voices.

"I trusted you!" she roared.

"And I made sure you’d survive," Kael said. "That was the deal."

Above them, the rift in the sky stretched wider—a divine wound that refused to heal. Through it, stars bled.The First Shadow hovered behind Kael now, a throne-shaped silhouette looming like a second moon.

But Lyra’s own throne was rebelling.

The seat behind her pulsed erratically—its heartbeat out of rhythm, runes flickering. Two brands—wing and teardrop—now sparked in conflict, as if unsure who they belonged to.

The throne had two chosen.

And it was splitting.

Aelira appeared beside Lyra, panting, bloodied, but alive. Her eyes met Kael’s with disbelief—and fury.

"You used all of us," she whispered.

Kael looked at her and, for the briefest moment, hesitated.

That hesitation cost him.

Lyra surged forward, wings outstretched. She tackled Kael with all her weight, shadows exploding outward like a midnight storm. They collided against the remains of the altar—glass shattering, runes burning.

"You’re not him," she growled, gripping his collar. "You’re not the Kael I knew."

Kael grinned, blood dripping from his lips.

"I never was."

He slammed his palm to her chest—right over the teardrop brand.

And suddenly, everything went white.

Memories poured into her—not hers, but his.

A child stolen from a temple.

Eyes forced open beneath the eclipse.

Runes carved into his back while he screamed for mercy.

A voice promising salvation—if he delivered the girl to the throne.

You were raised to break me, she realized. And I was raised to make you whole.

Two ends of the same sword.

She shoved him off, gasping, blinking back the tears she would not let fall.

"You think you’re chosen," she said. "But you’re just a vessel."

"And you’re just a crown that doesn’t know where to sit," Kael snapped.

From the center of the broken court, the Shadow Throne split in two.

One half burned in silver and sorrow.The other half bloomed in rot and rage.

Each throne called to one of them.Each offered complete power—but only if the other died.

The First Shadow’s voice echoed again:

"One to rule. One to consume."

Aelira stepped between them.

"No!" she screamed. "If either of you wins like this... we all lose!"

Kael raised his hand. A blade formed—one carved from ancient bone and betrayal.

But Lyra raised hers first.

A second blade rose—hers glowing with the sorrow of every death she endured.

The two thrones screamed.

The sky collapsed inward.

And as Lyra and Kael lunged toward each other, blade to blade—

A new voice rang out.

Young. Familiar.

"Mother?"

Lyra froze.

Behind the ruined altar stood a girl.Barefoot. Glowing. No more than ten years old.Her eyes... were Lyra’s.

And she was holding the final shard of the throne.

Everything stopped.

Kael froze mid-lunge, his blade inches from Lyra’s chest.Lyra’s wings flickered, folding back like a bird stunned mid-flight.The two thrones behind them dimmed—as if even power itself had forgotten how to breathe.

Because standing at the heart of the ruined court was a child.

Barefoot. Glowing. Ten years old.Wearing a simple ash-gray dress that shimmered with shifting constellations.

She held something in her hand—the final shard of the Shadow Throne.It pulsed like a heartbeat... in time with Lyra’s.

"Mother," the girl said again. Her voice was steady. Unafraid.

Aelira gasped behind them.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. "What trick is this?"

Lyra couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Her entire body trembled—not with fear, but recognition.

Because the child’s presence felt like a memory she had buried.Or perhaps... one she had not yet lived.

[Psychological Insight]She had never borne a child. Never even dared to dream of a future that gentle.Yet something inside her knew this girl.

Not like family.

Like completion.

A piece of her soul that had splintered off during one of her deaths—grown into form, wrapped in innocence, sent here now with a purpose.

I’ve seen her eyes before, Lyra thought. In my first vision... right before the throne claimed me.

The child stepped closer.

She looked at Kael—not with fear, but with sorrow.

"You were supposed to help her," she said gently.

Kael stiffened. "What are you?"

"I’m what the throne remembers," she answered. "I’m the echo that never forgot the first sacrifice."

The sky overhead had gone quiet. Not clear—just... still.Like the hush before a funeral.

The girl’s glow intensified as she walked between Lyra and Kael. The throne fragments behind them reacted—silver and rot, sorrow and rage—pulling toward her.

And when she lifted the final shard—

The two thrones cracked.

They didn’t break. They bent, as if surrendering to something older than power.Something truer.

The child looked at Lyra.

"You were never meant to rule or be ruled," she whispered. "You were meant to end the choosing."

Kael’s blade dropped slightly. "Then who decides?"

The girl turned her gaze toward him—and smiled, softly, like forgiveness before the fall.

"You both do."

The ground beneath them shattered again.From the center, a new throne began to rise.

Not black. Not burning.

But clear.

Formed of memory, glass, and unspoken truths.A throne that shimmered like starlight woven from tears.

The First Shadow’s voice returned—louder than ever.

"NO."

The sky howled. The earth cracked.From the rift above, its true form began to descend:A titan formed of screaming faces, bound in chains of time.

Its arms stretched wide, and reality itself began to twist—walls folding, light inverting, time rewinding in flickers.

Aelira clutched her head, blood trickling from her nose. "It’s... unraveling the world!"

Lyra stood, shielding the child behind her.

Kael lifted his blade again, but now... it trembled.

Even he wasn’t sure what side he was on anymore.

Lyra finally understood.

The throne was never meant to choose a victor.It was meant to preserve the memory of those who endured.

Kael, like her, had been bred by systems older than loyalty.They were two ends of a story started long before their birth.

And the child...

The child was the ending.

I’m not meant to win, Lyra realized. I’m meant to change the rules.

She reached out her hand—toward Kael.

"Fight beside me," she said.

He hesitated.

Then—slowly, painfully—he stepped forward, and took her hand.

Their combined touch ignited the new throne.

Light exploded upward in a column of silence.The First Shadow screamed—not in pain, but in refusal.Its body burned, flickering like a dying myth.

The girl stepped forward, placed the final shard into the new throne—and it accepted her.

Not as queen.Not as god.But as witness.

The glass throne stopped rising.

The rift above began to close.

The screaming... stopped.

Lyra turned to Kael. He looked... tired. His eyes had softened, though pain lingered beneath them like frost refusing to melt.

"Did we end it?" he asked.

The child didn’t answer.

Instead, she looked up—toward the sky—and whispered:

"Something else is watching."

Lyra followed her gaze.

Above the sealed rift... another shadow had formed.

No shape. No voice.

Just... presence.

And it was smiling.