The throne loomed before them, an obsidian monolith carved with intricate, ancient symbols. It was as if it had been sculpted from the very void itself, a relic of an age long past. As Mary, Lela, and Loosie stepped closer, the oppressive silence of the Silent Court wrapped around them, thick as fog. Each footstep echoed in the vast, empty hall, the weight of their trial still pressing against their souls.
The voice that had guided them through the Court now spoke again, its presence filling the room.
"You have faced your fears, accepted your burdens. Now, one among you must claim the throne and bear the truth of the Forgotten."
The three exchanged glances. The throne was no mere seat—it was a covenant, a vessel of knowledge and judgment. Whoever sat upon it would bear the memories of the Silent Court, absorbing the truths of those who had come before. But with knowledge came the risk of madness, of being consumed by the voices of the past.
Mary took a step forward, her sapphire eyes steady. "I will do it."
Lela frowned, gripping Gáe Bolg tightly. "Are you sure? We don't know what this throne will do to you."
Mary exhaled slowly, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her Saber of Mist. "I have spent too long chasing the truth, too long running from what I was. If there is any chance that this throne holds the answers we need, I will take it."
Loosie hesitated before nodding. "We'll be here. No matter what happens, you won't be alone."
With that, Mary ascended the steps. The closer she got, the more she could feel the throne's power—a pulse, faint yet overwhelming, like a heartbeat that resonated through time. Taking a final breath, she lowered herself onto the cold, unyielding surface of the obsidian seat.
The moment she made contact, the room darkened. A blinding surge of energy erupted from the throne, wrapping around her body like a spectral mist. The whispers returned—not as a faint murmur, but as a storm of voices, screaming, whispering, weeping.
Mary clenched her teeth as the visions flooded her mind.
She was no longer in the Silent Court. Instead, she stood within a vast battlefield drenched in blood. Thousands of warriors lay fallen, their bodies frozen in time. Above them, a massive golden sun burned in the sky, casting long, flickering shadows.
From the center of the battlefield, a figure emerged—a knight clad in silver armor, their face hidden behind a cracked helmet. Their presence was overwhelming, a remnant of a forgotten legend.
"Who are you?" Mary asked, gripping the hilt of her sword.
The knight slowly lifted their weapon—a massive greatsword that shimmered with an ethereal glow. "We are the Forgotten," they spoke, their voice an amalgamation of many. "We were once the greatest warriors, bound by fate and cursed by eternity."
Mary's heart pounded. "The curse of immortality…"
The knight nodded. "The Silent Court exists to judge those who have defied fate, those who refuse to die. We have fought, we have fallen, and yet we persist. You seek answers, but are you prepared for the cost of knowing?"
The battlefield around them began to change, the fallen warriors rising to their feet like phantoms. Each one bore weapons of unimaginable craftsmanship—spears, swords, axes, all shimmering with divine energy. Their faces were obscured, their identities lost to time.
Mary gritted her teeth. "What is this?"
"The burden of truth." The knight raised their greatsword. "If you wish to wield the knowledge of the Forgotten, then you must endure their memories. The pain, the battles, the regrets—they will become yours."
The warriors surged forward.
Back in the Silent Court, Lela and Loosie watched in horror as Mary trembled upon the throne, her body flickering between reality and something else—an unseen realm they could not reach. Her eyes glowed with a strange, shifting light, her breathing uneven.
"She's fighting something," Loosie whispered.
Lela gritted her teeth. "We have to get her back."
The ground beneath them trembled. From the darkness, figures began to emerge—phantoms clad in spectral armor, their bodies flickering like dying embers. They were the echoes of the Forgotten, the remnants of those who had once sought the throne's knowledge and failed.
Loosie drew her daggers. "Guess we don't have a choice."
Lela spun Gáe Bolg in her hands. "Then we fight."
The shadows lunged.
Within the throne's vision, Mary fought desperately. The memories of the Forgotten were not just images—they were experiences, relived in agonizing clarity. Every strike she took, every wound she suffered, was real. The weight of a thousand battles pressed against her, and yet she pushed forward.
Blood dripped from her forehead as she faced the silver knight once more. "I… will not break."
The knight's voice softened. "Then you are worthy."
With a final burst of energy, Mary thrust her Saber of Mist forward. Light erupted from her blade, piercing through the knight's form. The battlefield shattered like glass, and she felt herself falling—falling back to reality.
Mary's eyes shot open. She gasped, her hands trembling, but she was still seated on the throne. The spectral warriors had vanished. The Silent Court was still and quiet once more.
Lela and Loosie rushed to her side.
"Mary! Are you—"
Mary lifted her head, her expression unreadable. But there was something different in her gaze—something ancient, something knowing.
"I saw them," she whispered. "The Forgotten. I know now… what the curse truly is."
Loosie swallowed hard. "And?"
Mary stood, her voice steady. "The curse of immortality is not a gift, nor is it a punishment. It is a burden—a test given only to those who defy fate itself. We were never meant to exist outside of time… and yet we do."
Lela frowned. "Then how do we end it?"
Mary exhaled. "By doing what the Forgotten could not."
The throne behind her pulsed once before falling silent, its purpose fulfilled. The Silent Court had granted its final judgment.
And now, the final journey lay ahead.