Chapter 2780: Story 2781: The Mother Who Killed Eternity

The First Mother whispered her name.

“Seratha.”

The instant the final syllable left her lips, the world screamed.

The golden door shuddered. Its ancient symbols ignited, and every crown scattered across the darkness beyond it burst into flames. The Nameless King collapsed, clutching its featureless head as six golden eyes flickered wildly.

“No!” it roared. “That name was buried before time!”

Ronan stared at his mother.

“Seratha? Is that your true name?”

She closed her eyes.

“It was the first name ever given to me.”

The voice beyond the door fell silent.

Then it laughed.

Not with anger. Not with hatred.

With grief.

“You kept it,” the ancient being whispered. “After everything you did, you kept the name I gave you.”

The First Mother’s body trembled. Golden cracks spread across her face, revealing darkness beneath her skin.

“I remember what you were before you became this.”

“What I was?” The voice grew colder. “You tore my heart from my body. You stole my name. You divided my children and scattered my memories across generations. And now you dare remember me as I was?”

Lyra stepped beside Ronan, raising her bow toward the doorway.

“Tell us what happened,” she demanded.

Seratha looked at her with exhausted eyes.

“I killed him.”

The words struck harder than any weapon.

Elias slowly lowered his chains.

Aren struggled to stand, silver energy flickering around his injured hands. Darian stared at the First Mother, his violet flames dying one by one.

Ronan shook his head.

“You said you were protecting us.”

“I was.”

“From him?”

“From what he would become.”

The hand beyond the door tightened around the golden frame. Stone cracked beneath its fingers.

“I wanted to create a world where death had meaning,” the ancient voice said. “Where every name belonged to the one who carried it. Where no child would be forgotten.”

Seratha’s tears turned to red sparks.

“But you wanted a world where nothing could ever leave you,” she replied. “You would have imprisoned every soul, every memory, every living thing inside your eternal kingdom.”

“I wanted my children to remain with me.”

“And you would have devoured them to achieve it!”

The mountain split again.

Ronan staggered as memories flooded his mind: a golden palace, five cradles, his mother standing before a throne, and a man kneeling while she drove a blade into his chest.

The man had Ronan’s face.

But his eyes were full of sorrow.

Forgive me, Seratha had whispered in that ancient memory.

Then she had torn his heart free.

Ronan fell to his knees.

“I was there,” he gasped.

The forgotten child stirred inside him.

No, brother. We were there.

The Nameless King suddenly rose, its six eyes burning brighter than ever.

“Now you understand,” it declared. “The First Mother did not merely kill the Father.”

Its head turned toward Ronan.

“She killed the Firstborn, too.”

Behind the golden door, the ancient being extended its hand.

And Ronan recognized the face emerging from the darkness.

It was his own.

Only this time, the figure wore no crown.

It wore Seratha’s blood upon its hands.