The chamber beneath Ashen's sanctuary was cold, the air vibrating gently around the floating crown of starlight. It felt like a heartbeat—a slow, pulsing rhythm that resonated inside my chest, matching the patterns now woven across my arm.
Ashen had left me alone to consider everything he had revealed. The Crown Mark wasn't merely power; it was a throne waiting for someone strong—or desperate—enough to claim it.
"The throne doesn't care what you want."
The words echoed in my mind, heavy with implication.
My fingers brushed the cool surface of the replica crown. The moment my skin touched it, the chamber blurred and reality fell away.
The Warning from the Past
I stood in the ruins of a burning city. Black towers crumbled around me, fires raging like living storms. The sky was darkened by ash, pierced by golden lightning—shards of reality breaking like glass.
A figure knelt ahead, silhouetted by flames.
He rose slowly and turned. He was older, weary, his hair darkened by soot and blood. But his eyes—I recognized them immediately. They were mine.
"You're finally here," he said quietly.
"Who are you?" I asked, though I already knew.
"A shadow," he replied. "A memory of who you might become."
His eyes drifted to my arm, to the glowing Mark. "The throne tempts you, doesn't it? You see the power, the possibilities. But what you don't see is the cost."
Around him, the flames flickered, shifting into scenes of pain and ruin—worlds falling, empires collapsing, friends and allies lost in betrayal and desperation.
"Every Crown Bearer thinks they'll be different," he continued bitterly. "That they'll use the throne responsibly, spare the innocent, defeat the Harbinger. But that's the throne's greatest lie. It isn't something you wield—it's something that consumes."
I clenched my fists, stepping closer. "Then what choice is left? Walk away? Let the Harbinger win?"
He laughed softly. "No. The choice is simpler—and harder. If you reject the throne, you must shatter it. End the cycle, even if it ends you. Or you must accept and prepare to sacrifice everything. Friends, family, your very soul."
He stepped forward, eyes desperate now. "Promise me—promise yourself—that whatever path you choose, you'll do it with your eyes open. Don't make my mistakes."
Before I could respond, the vision dissolved into fire and ash.
The Harbinger's Fragment
I jolted awake in the chamber, gasping for air.
The replica crown hovered quietly, but the atmosphere had changed. The air grew thick and cold, pressing down with unbearable weight.
A voice, deep and distorted, echoed from the shadows.
"You glimpse only the edges of truth, child."
From the darkness, a shape emerged—tall, draped in tattered cloth and shadow, face obscured by an ivory-white mask engraved with the symbol of the Harbinger.
A fragment—an echo sent to test me.
"You seek the throne without knowing its purpose," the fragment whispered. "Do you think it exists merely to rule?"
I stood slowly, reaching into the Divin threads that pulsed through my Mark. "It doesn't matter what I think. The throne destroys those who touch it."
"No," it replied, voice almost gentle. "It destroys those who are unworthy."
It drifted forward, the ground fracturing beneath each step. "You think me your enemy—but you misunderstand. The Harbinger is not the end. He is a gatekeeper. One who waits for someone worthy to claim the throne and remake this broken world."
I hesitated. "And if no one worthy appears?"
"Then it ends," the fragment said simply. "And the cycle begins anew."
Confrontation in the Dark
Before I could react, it lunged. Reality twisted as its blade formed from pure darkness. I stepped back, activating Temporal Dissonance to slow its strike—but it moved through the distortion as if it were nothing.
I dodged, narrowly avoiding a blow that carved through stone as though it were mist.
The fragment's power was immense. Far beyond the Silencers, beyond even the Executioner at Varn's Hollow.
I struck back, channeling Divin Force through my Mark, but the fragment effortlessly blocked, the clash sending ripples through the air.
"Too weak," it hissed. "Too conflicted."
It drove forward, forcing me against the chamber wall. The air burned in my lungs, and my vision blurred as its blade neared my throat.
Then—a flash of silver.
Kieran emerged from a displacement, his blade slicing through the fragment's side, tearing the shadow apart temporarily.
"Move, Sylas!" he shouted.
Elara and Darian burst into the chamber, flames and force slamming into the fragment, holding it at bay.
The Mark's Evolution
I stood frozen, heart racing. The fragment's words burned in my mind.
"Unworthy."
Was I fighting against destiny—or running from responsibility?
My gaze drifted to the replica crown, still floating serenely amid the chaos.
A whisper brushed my mind again—the older me, pleading:"Whatever you choose… do it with your eyes open."
I exhaled slowly, decision crystallizing inside me.
The throne wasn't just a weapon, or a curse. It was responsibility—and temptation. I'd resisted before out of fear. Fear of becoming someone terrible again. But this time, I understood what it really meant to accept.
The Mark responded instantly.
Light burst from my arm, tracing a full, radiant crown across my skin and chest—fully formed, blazing with golden clarity.
The fragment froze, turning slowly.
"You choose dominion?" it asked, voice soft, almost respectful.
"I choose truth," I replied. "I choose to fight—not as your puppet, not as a tyrant, but as someone who remembers the cost."
It watched me quietly. "Then your path will lead to fire. And you will burn."
"Then I burn willingly."
The fragment bowed its head slightly. "We shall see."
Then, without another word, it dissolved into shadows.
Aftermath
Kieran lowered his blade slowly, breathing heavily. "What just happened?"
Elara looked shaken, glancing at the glowing crown etched onto my skin. "Sylas… what did you do?"
"I made a choice," I said softly, meeting her eyes. "Not to run from what I might become—but to accept it. And control it."
Ashen stepped back into the room, eyes wide with both fear and awe. "You…you accepted the throne's mark fully. Do you understand what this means?"
I nodded slowly. "I understand the risk. But running from it would only doom me—and everyone else."
He sighed heavily. "Then your next steps are clear. To master the throne's power, you must face the Harbinger directly. Break his hold on the Mark—and prove yourself worthy."
"How do I find him?" I asked.
Ashen smiled faintly. "You don't. He'll come to you."
The Mark on my chest pulsed gently in agreement.