✨ Short Description
> A cursed blade. A lost bloodline. A forgotten throne.
Kael Virek never asked for power, but when a stolen dagger cuts more than flesh, it awakens memories not his own—and a hunger buried in blood.
Hunted by killers, haunted by voices, and marked by an ancient curse, Kael must uncover a past erased from history and survive a war older than empires.
But the deeper he digs, the more he realizes:
The throne isn't empty. It's waiting for him.
Dark fantasy meets psychological thriller in a world where blood remembers everything... and nothing stays buried.
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Throne of Forgotten Blood 🩸
The first drop of blood fell before the blade was drawn.
It came from the sky—rain, they said. But it was too thick, too warm. And when it touched stone, it stained like memory.
That day, the sun did not rise.
It cracked.
The priests claimed it was a sign. The nobles called it an omen. The old ones, those who remembered what should have been forgotten, simply wept.
In Veyra Hollow, the sky bled.
And the world changed.
They say the gods ruled once—not with kindness, but with chains and whispers. When they fell, they weren't slain. They were sealed, buried beneath empires of silence. Their bones became mountains. Their breath became storms. And their blood—
Their blood never stopped screaming.
The Church silenced the screams. The Empire rewrote the truth. The world slept.
But blood remembers.
The dagger was forged in the heart of a dying star and bathed in the sorrow of ten thousand souls. No name could hold it, no scabbard contain it. They locked it in a tomb beneath a temple and sealed it with curses carved in forgotten tongues.
Until a thief's hand touched it.
Until blood spilled again.
His name is Kael Virek, though it is not the name he was born with. A street rat. A shadow. A survivor.
But when his blood awakened the blade, it whispered not to him... but through him.
Now the veil between memory and madness has torn. Ancient kings stir in their sleep. Old gods blink beneath stone lids. And the throne — the one forgotten by time itself — begins to call.
Not to a hero.
Not to a king.
To him