A tremor of silence gripped the chamber after the words "He… never left…" faded.

Then, one by one, realization struck them.

Erend felt the hair on his neck rise as an invisible chill crawled down his spine. The air thickened once more with a cold presence that crept like unseen eyes staring into their very souls.

"He's watching us…" he thought grimly. And by the look in Aesa and Eccar's eyes, they felt it too.

They weren't alone in this tower or in this world. They never had been.

However, Krono's expression didn't twist into chill like them. His eyes still flared with pure, burning rage. He took a single step forward.

"So where is that coward right now?" he asked coldly. His voice carried the sharp promise of violence that he was ready to unleash.

The mass of flesh pulsed and convulsed again, letting out a long wet sound that could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a groan of agony.

The red veins running through its body flared brightly and spread like cracks of molten lava. It didn't answer immediately.

Krono's patience ran thin.

"Answer me!" he snapped, his tone deep and filled with authority. Golden lights flickered briefly in his clenched fist.

Erend, Aesa, and Eccar stayed behind him unmoving. They could feel the creature's pain. Whatever this thing once was, the so-called former king had been reduced to a miserable existence of flesh that still has his consciousness.

Its continued awareness in this state for who knows how long, was a miracle and a curse. The suffering embedded in every tremor of its body was unbearable even to watch.

Finally, the voice came again, faint, trembling.

"He… watching… on the top…" it rasped weakly. "He told me… that you will come… and end my suffering…"

Krono's gaze snapped upward toward the ceiling lost in shadow. The weight pressing on him intensified, confirming what the creature had said.

The one who had cursed this world, who stopped his power, was up there. Watching. Enjoying this.

The golden light of his aura flared faintly along his arm as his anger boiled.

"Tell me," Krono said, his voice a low growl, "how am I to end your suffering?"

The flesh shifted once more, twitching uncontrollably. Its voice came weak and pleading.

"Just… kill me…"

Krono stared at it in silence. His hand rose slightly, golden energy sparking along his fingertips. But then he stopped.

His eyes narrowed and an idea flickered behind them.

"No," he said softly. "Not yet."

He stepped closer to the throne, his boots echoing against the pulsing floor.

He raised his left hand, and the air around it shimmered. Golden light spirals outward as he uses his Time power.

The temporal energy circled around his arm, and the flesh began to tremble violently under its touch.

The other Dragonborns instinctively stepped back as the golden light expanded, filling the entire chamber.

The veins of red light on the walls dimmed, suppressed under the glow of time reversal.

The malformed body started to reform. Muscle and skin reattached, bones reshaped, the grotesque mass unraveling itself back through time.

The process was brutal and slow like rewinding thousands of years of torment.

Then, finally, a man sat upon the throne.

He was tall, with long, pale hair that shimmered like silver dust. His armor was scarred and darkened by time but still carried the sigils of ancient royalty.

A crimson mantle draped over one shoulder, and a golden crown rested crookedly upon his brow.

His face was striking but empty, hollowed by exhaustion, disbelief, and centuries of pain.

His eyes were dull and grey. They darted around the chamber as if waking from a nightmare he had long forgotten how to escape. His breath came out slow and uncertain.

Krono lowered his hand.

"You can not die yet," he said flatly. "You still owe us answers."

The king's lips trembled. He looked down at his hands as though they were unfamiliar to him. His voice was little more than a whisper.

"After… so long… I can see again…"

His gaze rose to Krono, but his eyes were vacant and empty, as though the mind within hadn't yet caught up with the body that had been restored.

The other Dragonborns stood in silence, watching the impossible.

Erend's eyes narrowed slightly. He was not sure that this was the right thing to do. But Krono was right. They still need some answers from someone who had seen the entity known as Zerathul.

"Tell me," Krono demanded. "What is Zerathul's power? What has he done to this world?"

The king remained still. His breath was shallow. His eyes wandered aimlessly for several seconds. His mind is clearly struggling to catch up with the present.

The silence stretched long.

Krono's patience cracked.

"Answer me!" he snapped again. His aura flared briefly, casting shifting shadows across the room.

The king didn't flinch at the shout. Instead, he blinked slowly, his brows furrowing as if trying to recall fragments of his memories.

His confusion was pure. Not fear, but the fragile haze of someone piecing together memories.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and trembling.

"Zerathul… his power… it is not just death." His dull eyes met Krono's eyes. "He raises what he has killed… but never as it was."

Erend frowned. "What do you mean?"

The king's gaze drifted, unfocused, his tone distant. "He calls the dead to rise again… but he reshapes them into something else. Makes them serve again in stronger form. He creates other creatures from grief." His voice faltered, cracking with something between sorrow and disgust. "I saw my comrades rise again… my wife… my son…"

Aesa swallowed her saliva.

The king's fingers trembled as he looked down at them, as if the memory itself scorched his flesh.

"They weren't them anymore. Just… flesh puppets of his will. Flesh and bones bound by his power."

Eccar clenched his fists. "So the creatures that fought us were once people."

The king gave a faint nod. His expression was distant.

"He made me watch it again and again. Until I begged for death, and I thought he would grant it. But I was turned into this."

Krono's jaw tightened, fury flashing behind his eyes.

"He toys with the laws of life itself," he said coldly. "Twisting them for his amusement."

—