Shadows of the crown

Chapter 5: The final choice

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 people, protect Jorin. He could do what his father had failed to do.

But he knew it was a lie.

His father had given that promise a lot of faith, and look now: a puppet, a contorted leftover of what once had been a magnificent king. Evans would never fall into the very identical trap.

He staggered onto the dais, as if the shadows themselves were some living storm, whipping and swirling around him. The crown hovered before him, the dark energy pulsing in the air. Beautiful, in a way-terrible, yet mesmerizing. He could see why so many had fallen under its spell.

King Alden's voice was low, as if haunted by the tiniest part of that noise. "You think you can destroy it? The crown is eternal. It cannot be unmade."

Evans said nothing. Words were unnecessary; he knew what had to be done.

In one swift, smooth motion, Evans raised his sword high above the crown. For a moment, it was as if the shadows flinched back in anticipation of his next actions. Then they surged forward in a frantic, final attempt to defend their lord.

With all his strength, Evans plunged the sword downward.

The moment that his sword touched it, a light flared from the crown and filled the throne room in a brightness of hurt. Screaming shadows dissolved on the spot

The screams of the shadows-if they had ever existed at all, other than as figments of a nightmare that had haunted Astera far too long-were silenced as their forms dissolved into the light. The sound was deafening, like a thousand voices crying out in agonized terror, silenced in an instant. Evans stumbled backward, shielding his eyes against the radiance that filled the throne room.

A moment, he had done it: the crown was struck, the curse lifted, the darkness torn from his kingdom. Then the light began to fade and a dreadful feeling stole into his heart. The crown still hovered there, unharmed, untouched by his blade. Its dark energy pulsed even stronger now, as if mockery of his attempt to destroy it.

King Alden laughed, his eyes glimmering with a hollow trace of recognition. "You cannot destroy what you do not understand, Evans. The crown is beyond you-beyond all of us."

Evans' chest seized up. The weight of his failure weighed upon him, yet he could not quit now. He turned to Jorin, still imprisoned behind the wall of shadows, fruitlessly banging on it. His friend's voice, though muffled, was laced with desperation. Evans knew he didn't have much time.

"Then what must I do?" Evans yelled, his voice cracking with frustration and fear. "How do I end this?"

The king's laughter faded into a low ominous growl. "You shall don the crown, Evans. You shall become one with it. Only then will you have the power to control it."

Evans froze. The crown… the source of all the pain, the implement of his father's madness, was now offering itself to him. The whispers, previously chaotic and insistent, now turned soft and persuading, winding into his thoughts like a snake.

"Take it," the voices whispered. "Take it and save your kingdom. Only you know how to wield its power. Only you can protect Astera."

For one moment, Evans actually considered it. Everything the crown had ever promised him-strength, control, protection for his people-might actually be his. Astera could once again rise, and he could be the king his father had never been.

But deep inside, he knew the truth. The crown didn't offer salvation; it offered domination. It had consumed his father and would consume him if he gave in to its temptation. He couldn't save his kingdom by becoming what had destroyed it.

"I will not wear the crown," Evans said, firm without raising his voice.

King Alden's face twisted into a mask of rage. "Then you are a fool!" he screamed in his voice, as he leapt from the throne in a movement too quick to be natural. "You are nothing without the crown! You shall die, and your kingdom shall fall to ruin!

The shadows then sprang forward, much more savage than before. Evans could barely muster time to raise his sword as his father plunged down, the dark tendrils of the curse lashing like some beast's claws. Their blades met, the force of impact sending ripples throughout the throne room.

"Father!" Evans exclaimed in strain, struggling to hold his own. "This isn't you! Fight it!"

But the king's eyes were black as the night and told nothing human. He fought with the strength of a man possessed-a man driven by the iron will of the crown. Evans parried blow after blow, knowing he could not maintain this for much longer. His strength was deserting him, and the weight of the curse pressed down on him, promising to crush him beneath its might.

In a wave of desperation, Evans saw something glinting near the base of the throne. Faint, hardly visible beneath the swirling shadows, yet there it was-a shard of light, a remnant of the kingdom's once-bright essence buried beneath the darkness.

The heart of the kingdom, the wellspring of Astera's ancient, forgotten magic obscured by the curse. If he could reach it, perhaps there was still hope.

Evans called up his last surge of strength to push his father back, his eyes glued to that shard of light. He knew now what needed to be done.

"Forgive me," he breathed, his voice breaking as his decision set.

In one smooth motion, Evans sheathed his sword and flung himself at the shard. The shadows shrieked in denial, hashing out at him as he reached for it, but his fingers wrapped around the warm glow. The instant he touched it, a tide of energy ran through him, filling him with a sense of clarity and purpose.

The light kept expanding, washing over the throne room and burning the shadows from its path. Evans felt the curse break, its hold on the kingdom weakening with each passing second. The frantic whispers of the crown grew louder, but were consumed by brilliance.

"No!" King Alden screamed, his form flickering as the light consumed him. "You cannot defy the crown! You cannot—

But his words were cut off as the light enveloped him, and with one last, anguished cry, the darkness that had consumed him was rent away. The crown, now powerless, fell from the air, clattering upon the floor; its once-malevolent energy reduced to little more than a faint shadow.

Silence fell on the throne room.

The fragment of light still pulsed weakly in Evans' hand as he fell to his knees. The fight, the curse, everything that had brought him to this very moment came down on him like a mountain, sending his body into rigid tremors of exhaustion. But when he looked up, his father lay still on the floor, free at last from the crown's curse.

"Father." Evans whispered, crawling toward him.

King Alden's eyes fluttered open, his vision no longer cloudy from the darkness. He looked up to his son, softening with a mix of regret and sorrow. "Evans…," he murmured, weak, "You… saved me."

Evans's voice caught in his throat, his hands trembling as he took his father's in his own. "I'm sorry, Father. I couldn't save you sooner."

A weak smile danced across the king's lips. "You've done more than I ever could… You've saved the kingdom."

With those last words, King Alden's eyes closed, and the last breath escaped his body. The weight of the loss slammed into Evans, a cold knife to the heart, yet he knew that finally his father was at peace.

Jorin burst through the now-dissipated shadows, hurrying to Evans's side. "Evans!" he exclaimed, falling to his knees beside him. "Is it over?"

Evans let his gaze fall to the fallen crown, the shard of light in his hand still softly glowing. "It's over," Evans said, his voice a bare whisper. "The curse is lifted."

As the first rays of dawn pierced through the shredded windows of the throne room, Evans knew Astera was finally rid of the shroud of darkness. The kingdom would heal with time but at a great and terrible cost; yet there was a glimmer of hope for the times to come.

Yet, Evans also knew, the memory of the Crown of Shadows would never truly be forgotten-nor would the choices he had made to save his kingdom.