Thronebreaker: The One Who Devours Names-Chapter 34 – The Warden’s Smile

The Prison of the Gods was not made of stone or steel.

It was built from oaths.

Each step Raen took down the winding obsidian path tightened something invisible around his chest. A noose. A memory. A vow he hadn't made, but felt breaking anyway.

Keir followed behind, torchlight flickering against mirrored walls that didn't show reflections—only distorted regrets. "So," Keir whispered, "still think this was a good idea?"

"No," Raen replied, voice taut. "But we're here." freёweɓnovel.com

The air thickened as they descended. Whispers slithered between the cracks in the walls. Not words. Names.

Raen's name.

Spoken by a thousand mouths.

"You're popular," Keir said with a dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Creepy popular."

Raen ignored him. The blade at his side, Silence Between, thrummed in warning. The last time it had done that, he'd accidentally cut open a world.

---

They reached the first gate. It wasn't locked.

Because nothing sane would open it willingly.

The chamber beyond was circular, vast, and silent. Floating coffins spun slowly in the air, chained to the ceiling by cords of starlight. Inside each floated figures wrapped in golden bandages.

Godmarked.

Or what was left of them.

One twitched.

Keir swore under his breath. "I thought this was a prison for the gods. Not of them."

Raen walked forward. "Same thing. Once they fall."

He reached for the sigil on the floor—a star spiraling into itself—and pressed his palm to it.

It burned.

Then came the voice.

Warm. Gentle. Terrible.

"Breaker of Threads. Welcome."

The air trembled. One of the coffins shattered. Golden shards scattered like dying suns.

From within stepped a woman.

Tall. Barefoot. Eyes blindfolded with thorns. Her smile was soft.

And utterly wrong.

"Warden Elira," Raen said without emotion.

Keir stiffened. "You know her?"

"She raised me," Raen said. "Before the gods sent her to rot here."

Elira stepped forward. Her voice was honey wrapped around knives. "My little flame. How long it's been. Still chasing thrones you'll never keep?"

Raen didn't flinch. "Still pretending love is something you give?"

Keir took a step back. "Okay, I'm sensing some history here I really don't want to unpack."

"You shouldn't have come," Elira whispered.

"Then why haven't you killed me?"

Elira laughed.

Because love, in her mind, was not warmth.

It was possession.

And broken toys were the ones she loved most.

---

The fight began before Keir could blink.

Chains of golden light exploded from Elira's hands. Raen barely ducked, slicing them mid-air with Silence Between. Sparks screamed against the mirrored walls. The ground trembled.

Keir raised a shield of flame just in time to block a psychic ripple that would've liquefied his brain.

Elira was fast.

And Raen wasn't fighting to win.

He was holding back.

"You're hesitating," she said, dodging a slash and wrapping a chain around his ankle. "Still clinging to guilt?"

"I'm clinging to clarity."

He yanked the chain, flipped, and slammed Silence Between into the sigil again.

The prison screamed.

Not metaphorically.

The walls cracked.

More coffins shattered.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Keir yelled.

Raen turned, bleeding. Smiling.

"I changed the rules."

---

The fallen gods stirred. Eyes opened. Not all were sane.

A dozen broken divinities began to whisper in unison:

"Devour the name. End the name. Breathe the name."

Elira hesitated.

And that was enough.

Raen summoned Ashveil.

The Flameborn Beast erupted in a halo of scorched air and shattered gravity. Antlers struck Elira's chains. Keir launched an illusion of a collapsing sun. Raen struck.

Elira vanished in a burst of light—banished, not destroyed.

"Is she gone?" Keir asked, panting.

Raen wiped blood from his mouth. "No. She's waiting."

They stood in the wreckage of a god-prison, surrounded by broken names and falling stars.

Raen looked to the deepest stair.

"Come on. We're not done."

---

They descended further. Past time. Past meaning.

To a gate of black flame.

No keyhole.

No handle.

Just a sigil.

Raen pressed his hand to it.

It asked a question.

"What is your true name?"

He didn't answer.

He remembered.

A crib of knives.

A lullaby sung by the god of betrayal.

A promise he made to no one—but kept anyway.

The door opened.

---

Inside was a child.

Not more than ten.

Sleeping on a throne made of mirrors.

Raen's reflection twisted in every shard. His face smiling. Crying. Screaming. Laughing.

"What the—" Keir began.

Raen silenced him.

"Don't speak."

The child opened its eyes.

And they were his.

Raen stepped forward.

The child whispered:

"I'm what you left behind."

Keir looked between them, suddenly pale. "That's... you?"

Raen nodded once.

"I killed him long ago."

"But he lived."

The child reached out a hand. The air bent.

"You forgot your name. I didn't."

Raen stepped closer.

The child smiled.

"You'll need me to face what's coming."

Raen whispered, "What is coming?"

The child looked up.

Eyes burning with endless futures.

"The girl who never forgot you. The one you left in the fire."

The chamber went dark.

A laugh echoed through the void.

Her laugh.

"Raen..." a voice purred.

"Did you really think you could run from me forever?"

A figure stepped from the mirror.

She wore blood.

And his name.

[TO BE CONTINUED]