"The Devourer." I knew this part. Had felt its influence through the curse that fed on my bloodline. "It came through the damage they created."
"Yes." Lyralei didn't flinch from the accusation. "We invited it without knowing. Our hatred, our pride, our absolute certainty in our own righteousness, it all created the perfect entry point for something that feeds on exactly those qualities."
The Devourer's form shifted through the images, never quite settling into a single shape. One moment humanoid, the next bestial, then something beyond classification entirely.
"It didn't conquer through force." Lyralei's hands trembled slightly. "It whispered. Promised power to those losing the war. Offered vengeance to those nursing grudges. Gave permission to escalate beyond all restraint to those who wanted justification."
"It turned your civil war into something worse," Seris said.
"The War of the Unmaking." Lyralei nodded. "By the time we realized what we'd invited in, we couldn't stop it. The Devourer had become part of the conflict's foundation. Removing it meant addressing the corruption that gave it power, and no faction was willing to admit their complicity."
The images showed devastation beyond anything I'd witnessed. Not just destroyed cities, but unmade ones, places where reality itself had given up. Populations transformed into things that couldn't die but also couldn't live. Magic weaponized beyond recognition or restraint.
"How many survived?" I asked, though I suspected the answer.
"Of the original Accord population? Less than ten percent." Lyralei's voice went flat. "The war consumed everything. Our civilization, our culture, our very existence became fuel for the Devourer's manifestation. Today, only Seris and I remain."
Seris's face had gone pale. I moved closer without thinking, my hand settling on her shoulder. She leaned into the touch.
"The survivors faced impossible choices. Continue fighting and ensure complete extinction, or seek help from those they'd once considered beneath us." Lyralei's smile turned bitter. "Pride demanded the former. Survival required the latter."
The images shifted to show different figures now. Humans. Armed warriors bearing familiar heraldry.
"We approached a military force just outside our borders. A kingdom built on one king’s kindness and strength." Lyralei gestured, and one figure stepped forward in the illusory display. "King Altheryn Thorne."
Ice crystallized in my chest.
Seris's head turned sharply toward me, then back to the images. I watched her make connections, saw understanding settle across her features like frost.
"Your ancestor," she said, still looking at the projection.
"The first Thorne king." I'd known this part existed somewhere in our bloodline's history, known, and deliberately avoided examining it too closely. "The one who forged the kingdom into an empire."
"The one who saved what remained of the Veil-touched from extinction," Lyralei corrected. "At tremendous personal cost."
The images showed him clearly now, tall, dark-haired, carrying himself with the same lethal precision I recognized from mirror reflections and my father's movements. The shadow-work that marked our bloodline flickered around his form.
Seris stared at the projection, then at me, then back again.
"He was already powerful," Lyralei continued. "But more importantly, he was a righteous man above all else. Almost incorruptible and willing to die for his subjects. But he lacked what we possessed, knowledge of the Veil itself. By the time we made contact during the War of the Unmaking, he had already begun to see the changes the Devourer caused, not only in the northern realm of the Fae, but in the southern kingdoms of humanity. We proposed an alliance. His military strength combined with our remaining magical expertise, focused on one goal."
"Stopping the Devourer," I said.
"Binding it." Lyralei's distinction carried weight. "Destruction wasn't possible. The Devourer had woven itself too deeply into our reality, and we had thinned the Veil to a point where we couldn’t channel enough of it to destroy the Devourer without creating a tear large enough for his armies to come forth. Banishment, too, risked shattering the Veil entirely. Our only option was containment."
The images shifted to show a massive throne, the same one I'd seen in Blackstone's heart, the same one my father sat upon when playing king.
The Hollow Throne.
"Altheryn Thorne volunteered himself as anchor." Lyralei's voice softened with something like respect. "We explained the cost. That binding the Devourer would require a permanent conduit, a bloodline sacrifice that would echo through generations. That his descendants would carry the burden forever."
"And he agreed." Seris's words came quiet, horrified.
"He demanded it." Lyralei met my eyes again. "Said if the price of saving the world was his line's suffering, that seemed appropriate for kings. That power should come with consequence, not just privilege."
I'd never heard that part. Never encountered that version of my ancestor in any record or teaching. The Thorne history I knew painted Altheryn as a conqueror who'd seized magical power through subjugation and force.
Propaganda, apparently. Rewritten by those who came after.
