In the Shadow of the Crown

The next morning came cloaked in the hush of an impending storm.

Eliza sat before her vanity, staring at her reflection, but seeing nothing. Candlelight flickered against the polished glass, casting shadows across her pale face, her tired eyes. The weight of the night before pressed against her ribs like an iron corset, too tight, suffocating.

[War.]                                            

The word felt foreign on her tongue, yet it had settled into her bones, refusing to be shaken.

She had barely slept. Not because she feared what lay ahead. No, fear had long since become a familiar companion, but because she knew the path she chose now would decide everything. There was no turning back.

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

She straightened, smoothing the fabric of her dark gown before calling out, “Enter.”

The door opened, and Raen stepped inside.

Even without his armor, he commanded the space, his presence swallowing the air between them. He wore a simple tunic, black as midnight, the laces at his throat undone just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone. But it was his eyes that held her captive - silver, storm-lit, unyielding.

“You didn’t come to me last night,” he said.

She turned back to the mirror, her fingers tightening in her lap. “There was nothing left to say.”

He stepped closer. “There was everything left to say.”

Eliza closed her eyes. “What do you want, Raen?”

A pause. Then: “For you to trust me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Trust? Is that what this is about?” She met his gaze in the mirror. “I trust that you would burn the world to have me. I trust that you would kill for me. But I do not trust that you know when to stop.”

Raen’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

[Because he knew she was right.]

She stood, turning to face him fully. “What happens when the king is dead, Raen? When the throne is empty? What then?”

Something dark flickered across his face. “Then we build something better.”

She shook her head. “Or you become the very thing you sought to destroy.”

Silence stretched between them. A battle not fought with swords, but with something far sharper words, truth, the weight of all they had lost.

Finally, he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Elric wants to meet. We cannot move forward until we know where his true loyalties lie.”

Eliza studied him. “You still don’t trust him.”

“I trust no one.”

That, at least, was something they had in common.

With a nod, she moved toward the door. “Then let’s see what game he’s playing.”

***

The meeting took place in an abandoned chapel, long forgotten by the nobility who once prayed within its walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and old incense, the remnants of a faith long since abandoned.

Elric was already there, standing beneath the remnants of a stained-glass window, shards of color casting fractured light across his sharp features. He looked as he always did - composed, unreadable, as if nothing in the world could touch him.

“You took your time,” he mused.

Raen ignored him. “Speak.”

Elric’s gaze flickered to Eliza. “Are you certain of this?”

She lifted her chin. “I would not be here otherwise.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Then let me show you what the king has tried to keep hidden.”

He reached into his cloak, pulling free a small, leather-bound book. It was unmarked, worn at the edges, but when he placed it in Eliza’s hands, a pulse of something cold slid through her fingers.

[Magic.]

Her breath hitched.

Raen’s eyes darkened. “What is this?”

Elric’s expression was grim. “The king’s true power does not come from birthright. It comes from something far older. Something far worse.”

Eliza traced her fingers over the cover.

Inside this book lay the first true move in their war.

And for the first time, she wondered if they had already lost.