Every individual seated at the table nodded in unison, acknowledging the presence of the figure who had appeared. This act of silent reverence was not for her as a person but for the position she occupied: The First Throne.
Unlike all other throne holders who occupy their seat only through their strength, the First Throne was not merely a title; it was a sacred position bestowed upon those chosen by the very essence of the world.
This individual was not a leader in the traditional sense but a representative of the planet's will, its voice made manifest. To attain this position was to shoulder the immense responsibility of acting as a spearhead for the world's betterment.
It was a precarious role, akin to walking a razor-thin line, where even the noblest of intentions could lead to disaster if they inadvertently caused harm to the world. Any deviation, any failure to align with the planet's essence, would result in the swift withdrawal of its support, stripping the individual of their title and their standing.
No matter how great the goal was, if the first throne decision accidentally harmed the world, then he or she would suffer punishment worse than death.
The one who now held this revered position was undeniably beautiful, her appearance marked by an ethereal quality that set her apart from all others.
The most striking feature of her form was the presence of two additional horns, one golden and the other silver, which shimmered alongside her other horns.
Each of her horns, unlike those of the others, was a different color, a complete spectrum of elemental representation: red for fire, blue for water, green for earth, brown for wind, and gray for space.
She was crowned with an equal number of elegant tails, which swayed behind her like living extensions of her aura, exuding an allure that was impossible to ignore.
Her forehead bore a circular symbol, resembling an eye, that shimmered with alternating golden and silver hues. This symbol rotated in a harmonious rhythm, mirroring the colors that danced across the surfaces of the inverted pyramids that defined their world.
Her every motion, every gesture, seemed to resonate with the same innate harmony that governed the world itself.
This view could have been called ethereal if there were no cracks in her horns, her forehead filled with black lines pulsating with an eerie sense of death and destruction trying to taint the circular symbol on her forehead, her tails almost touching the floor as if burdened by the weight of problems with no sign of their usual liveliness.
Everyone in the room looked at their first throne with eyes filled with guilt and pity.
guilt for not being strong enough, for not trying their best to protect their home, for letting their youngest first throne in history burden the sacrifices of several deaths; among the long list of reasons behind being guilty, one reason ranked first: the reason for which all of them have come here.
the action they are going to take from this point of war.
Among all throne holders, the one who is feeling the most pain is none other than Carysa. She is the oldest among all the thrones, along with being the most caring among them.
It would not be wrong to say that everyone in this meeting is like children for her, and looking at the youngest of her children suffering so much pain while knowing the fact that from here on this suffering will only increase, unknowingly tears started dropping from her eyes.
The first throne looked at everyone in the room. She acknowledged the presence of each individual with a slight nod.
Her very presence calmed the chaotic elemental influences that surrounded the others, subduing them as if they were obedient subordinates awaiting their master's command. The air in the room grew still, charged with a palpable sense of anticipation.
After ensuring that every one of the gathered individuals was present, she finally spoke. Her voice, resonant and authoritative, carried an unspoken demand for absolute silence—not that anyone would dare interrupt her.
They understood the weight of her words, knowing that she had likely drawn upon the world's power through her golden and silver horns to uncover something of utmost importance.
"Each one of you present here, including myself," she began, her tone steady and deliberate, "has been engaged in a relentless battle against an oppressive force that has sought to claim our world, ANVITA, for countless decamillennia."
"Like our predecessors before us, we have fought to protect what is ours. However, it appears that this enemy has grown restless. Their most recent assault on us was not merely a probing attack—it was a calculated move, a harbinger of what is to come. From this, we can be certain that their next strike will be an all-out assault, a campaign of annihilation."
As her words hung in the air, the gaze of every individual at the table was inevitably drawn to the eight chairs that now stood empty.
These chairs had once been occupied by comrades—warriors who had fulfilled their duty to protect their planet at the ultimate cost. Their lives had been given willingly, a sacrifice made to ensure the survival of their world. The absence of these individuals was a somber reminder of the price they all might eventually pay.
Expressions around the table varied—some displayed sorrow, others anger, regret, or quiet acceptance. Yet, none showed surprise or fear. Those who had ascended to these heights of power had long since abandoned illusions of ease or comfort.
Their thrones had been built upon seas of blood and mountains of sacrifice. Each word they spoke was as unyielding as their existence, forged in the crucible of countless battles. They did not need to be told what the future might hold; they could see it as clearly as the stars in the night sky.
"The reason I have called you all here with such urgency," she continued, her voice unwavering, "is because a decision must be made."
Each individual instinctively tightened their grip on the chair's arms, the worn wood groaning under the pressure. It wasn't fear of the unknown that gripped them but the absolute certainty of what lay ahead. This was the moment they had dreaded for so long, the precipice they had struggled to avoid. Now, there was no escape. The weight of their race and their world rested on this singular moment, on the decision that would ripple through time like a stone cast into a still lake.
No matter what decision is made today, none of them will remain alive to experience that future. After all, their solution itself is nothing more than trying to commit suicide while praying for survival.
One of the seated figures asked, his voice resolute.
"What are your orders for us, first throne?"
The first throne took a deep breath before answering.
"We will follow the paths our ancestors have carved for us in the forbidden texts." Her voice sounded pained even though she tried to cover it.
Carysa can no longer contain herself. Her voice shook, and the tears falling refused to stop.
"Is there really no other way? These paths are nothing but filled with death and a very slight hope for survival, something none of us will remain to look at."
The first throne's eyes started to dim, replaced by a watery scene. Her lower lip trembled, a silent plea for understanding.
"We have no other choice but to follow this plan."
"Please try to understand our world and our race; both are standing at the crossroads where one path represents absolute death and destruction, while another shows the same result but with a slight chance of survival."
She continued, her voice determined.
"I have made my decision; ten out of thirteen will remain here with me to face the armies of our enemy and keep their attention diverted, while the other three will follow the instructions given by our ancestors just as written in the forbidden texts."
"Our ancestors have already foreseen that a disaster like this will definitely strike our world, so they made preparations for their future generation. Now it's our duty to not disappoint them and keep the future of our world and our race safe."
"Everyone, keep it in your mind: this is our burden and our honor. We are not fighting for ourselves. We are fighting for the generations yet to come, for the faintest possibility of life beyond this devastation. This is the duty we must embrace. I have made my decision, and I want all of you to do the same."
Everyone fell silent for a few moments. If they were of another race or world, the first throne would have been worried about a possible betrayal, but she knew the trait of her race very well.
These people are born with an innate sense of loyalty toward their world, and it's in their blood. verified by the continuous war, where not even a child of their world has betrayed them till now.
True to her belief, everyone nodded their head in acceptance of their sacrifice for the greater good of their world.
"We will let you choose those three who will follow the paths written in forbidden text," someone said.
The first throne just smiled in response while nodding her head.