Chapter Thirteen: The Crownless Queen
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The Nameless Realm held its breath.
Kael, bloodied and breathless, dangled midair with one arm barely attached. His Deep Crown flickered above his head like a dying star.
Silas hovered opposite, his once-radiant aura dimmed to embers. His divine ring had fractured, three glyphs shattered. Judgment had nearly cost him everything.
And between them, Lyra stood before the First Throne.
She wasn't glowing. She wasn't armored.
She was human.
And yet the throne pulsed to her heartbeat.
"This... isn't your fight," Kael rasped, struggling to keep himself afloat.
Silas's voice was strained. "Lyra, the throne will kill you. It chooses only those born of the ancient bloodlines."
Lyra stepped forward. Her hands trembled, but her eyes burned with a steady light.
"I don't care about bloodlines," she whispered. "I care about people. About what comes after you two finish tearing the world in half."
The Nameless One stirred.
Then choose. Become ruin. Become judgment. Or...
Kael snarled. "She can't! She's nothing!"
Lyra turned to him, her voice calm. "You said the same when I stood in your way the first time."
She reached out toward the throne.
The air rippled.
Both Kael and Silas screamed in unison.
Chains lashed outward, trying to repel her. But Lyra didn't back away. She pressed on. The throne cracked beneath her palm. Golden veins spread through it like blood returning to a corpse.
Then—a blinding light.
And silence.
---
When the light faded, the throne was gone.
Kael was on his knees.
Silas floated, stunned.
And Lyra stood, wreathed in golden fire, a half-crown of balance hovering behind her head.
Not of judgment. Not of ruin.
Something new.
Something else.
The Nameless One whispered.
The Crownless Queen.
Lyra looked at her hands, her voice trembling. "What have I done?"
The world responded.
---
In the mortal realm, every shadow stilled. Every storm fell quiet. Across empires, kings dropped to their knees, unknowingly bowing to a new force.
Nihrex's eyes widened. "It chose her? The throne... shifted."
In the east, a dragon that had slept for a thousand years opened its eyes.
In the west, temples built to the Old Gods cracked and bled.
The world groaned.
---
Back in the realm, Kael screamed.
"NO! You stole it from me! You don't deserve it!"
He launched forward, all power unleashed.
Silas shouted. "Kael, don't—"
But Kael was beyond reason.
Lyra didn't move.
She raised her hand.
A wave of balanced force exploded from her palm.
Kael was stopped mid-flight, suspended in the air. His shadows unraveled. The Deep Crown shattered.
He dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
Silas rushed to him, catching the Hollow King in his arms.
Kael's voice was faint. "It... was supposed to be me. I was the heir."
Silas held him silently.
"Rest now, Kael. It's over."
The realm shimmered. The Nameless One's chains fell silent.
She is chosen. The cycle breaks. The world changes.
And then everything began to fade.
---
Back in the mortal world, Lyra appeared in a beam of golden light.
People screamed. Then knelt.
Silas emerged behind her, carrying Kael's unconscious body.
The Crownless Queen had returned.
But peace was far from assured.
Because something deeper had awoken.
Far beyond the First Throne.
Watching.
Waiting.
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To be continued...