Shadows of the crown

Standing on the eastern balcony of the castle, the winds whipping at his cloak, the gaze of Prince Evans swept over the great kingdom of Astera: the gold fields stretching to the horizon, kissed by the early morning sun, yet beneath that beauty a sense of foreboding lingered. These faraway mountains, once comforting and a natural barrier of protection, now seemed to brood under a thickening layer of mist, as though hiding secrets this kingdom was not ready to face. Astera had once shone so bright, a beacon of light and prosperity, but over the past year, it had been smothering under an invisible weight, a growing darkness that seemed to seep right from the air. Rumors flew among the people of strange happenings: withering of crops without cause, sickness, and death amongst the livestock, and a chill that had submerged into the bones-whatever the season. And at the hub of all that was the crown, an heirloom passed down the generations, now locked away in the castle's vault

The wind howled through the trees, carrying upon it a biting chill that seemed to crawl under Evans's armor and burrow deep into his bones. The sudden disappearance of the cloaked figure had left the camp silent, but tension hung in the air like a thick fog. Each man stood still, staring into the darkness as if he expected the figure to reappear any minute. Evans's heart still racing, he stared at the place where the mysterious figure vanished. His mind was a tumble of questions, none of which had easy answers: Who was this stranger? How did he know about the crown? Most terrifyingly of all, what did it mean that the crown was awake? Jorin spoke first, his voice low, but urgent. "We need to move. If the crown knows that we're coming, it's too dangerous to stay here." Evans nodded, forcing himself to focus. "You're right. We'll rest for a few hours, leave at first light. But we need to be ready for anything." Jorin's face darkened, looking

It was the weight of a throne room that weighed upon Evans as he pressed onward, the shadows clawing at him-but unbreakable was his resolve. Twisted and hollow, King Alden watched him, the vacant gaze of his father a reminder of what the crown could do, would do if he failed. Jorin flung himself in a frenzy against the wall of shadows, separating them; his cries were desperate, but Evans knew this battle was his alone. The curse was a part of his bloodline; only he could face it. As he drew closer to the throne, the crown's whispers grew louder. They no longer subtly coaxed his thoughts; they screamed in his mind for him to give in-a chorus of voices demanding he surrender. "Take the crown!" they shrieked. "Take it, and all will be yours!" Evans felt the pull. The power. The promise of control over the darkness, over life itself. He could restore Astera, raise her to heights she had never known. He could protect his peo

Days faded into an indistinct haze, but what lingered in Evans's mind was the shadow dog's attack, hovering over him like a dark cloud. While people of Astera gradually began to get back into the daily grind once again, the kingdom itself awaited with bated breath the occurrence of something, anything. Evans felt it, too. The skies had cleared-the streets were once again filled with caution and hope-but he knew the curse of the crown hadn't been truly broken. Not yet. Since the night of the battle, Evans had been avoiding the council chambers, much more content to wander the empty halls of the castle. His heart was heavy, for though his father's reign had been brought to a close, the weight of the curse clung to him like a shadow. Every mirror, every dark corner seemed to mock him with the knowledge that the crown had not been destroyed, only changed. And thus, late one night, unable to sleep, Evans found himself standing before the mi

Evans swung his sword through the village square with all the strength he could manage. The form twisted and writhed, avoiding his strikes with unnatural speed. The glowing eyes fixed on him, shining with malice. "You cannot win this fight," the creature hissed, its voice echoing in the air around them. "The darkness has already claimed you." Evans clinched his teeth, refusing to yield to the fear eating away at his stomach. Again, Evans swung his sword, catching the creature's arm this time. The blade cut through the shadowy form, and for a moment, it faltered, but then the darkness reassembled, the wound closing almost in an instant. The soldiers ringed the creature, their swords drawn, but were hesitant. None of them knew how to fight this thing. It wasn't like any enemy they had ever faced. It was made out of shadow, something beyond their understanding. Jorin moved beside Evans, his sword raised. "We can't fight it