The earth shook beneath Evans's feet as he stood at the edge of the abyss, the final threshold to the resting place of the crown. In the darkness, the jagged rocks below were luminous from the pit glowing with that eerie light, casting long, twisted shadows around the chamber. Every step they had taken through the Black Mountains had been taken to come here. Now, at the heart of the cursed land, the crown's whispers no longer confined themselves to his head; instead, they echoed around him like some sort of chilling chorus of lost souls, begging to be set free. The air felt heavy with malevolent weight, and it was hard to breathe. "Evans, this isn't right," Jorin's voice cut through the haze, though it seemed to be so much farther away than it should have been. "We need to get out. This place. it's teeming with the crown's power. Evans's hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, his muscles tense, as if every fiber in his body was ready to ac

Evans stood in the grand hall, the morning sun spilling through the high windows, filtering on to the intricate designs on the stone floor. He had trod these halls a thousand times as a boy, but now he dreamed of one day taking the throne, leading his kingdom with the same strength and honor. But after his journey into the Black Mountains, everything was somehow different. Gone was the boy who'd left the castle with little more than courage and curiosity. Before her stood a prince forged by darkness, strong through sacrifice, and burdened by truths he could hardly speak. Then he faced Jorin, who was well beyond being a friend—a partner, brother in arms. Together they'd faced horrors that nobody could ever understand, their bond deepening within the silence afterwards, after being taken from the mountain. Evans, are you certain?" Jorin's voice was even, but Evans saw the flash of concern in his eyes. "You don't owe anyone the truth of what happened. Th