Obsidian Throne

The world is dead. A throne of obsidian stands alone, pulsing with a cold emerald glow at the heart of a land drowned in ash and magma. Upon it, she waits.

Azryale Durge. The sole ruler of a kingdom of ruin. For a century, she has sat upon her throne, watching a world with nothing left to see. This was the victory she wanted. Wasn’t it?

Then, the portal appeared. It called to her with an essence she almost recognized. A whisper of something lost. A promise—or a challenge. With nothing left to bind her, she stepped through. And fell.