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Chapter 6: Beneath the Crown of Ash
The light that broke through the cathedral's broken ceiling guided Elian deeper into the land's forgotten veins. His guide no longer walked beside him—only a faint echo of footsteps behind him reminded Elian that he was watched, perhaps protected, or perhaps judged.
The path now led through dead fields of gray ash, where trees stood like petrified bones reaching toward a sky stained with soot. No wind blew here. The air was still, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
At the center of the wasteland stood a lone monument: a throne made entirely of scorched stone and blackened vines, crowned with twisted metal and hollow symbols of a forgotten faith.
Elian approached slowly, each step sinking slightly into the ash. As he neared the throne, a figure emerged from the dust—tall, robed in cloth as dark as smoke, a crown of bone resting on its head. Its face was hidden, but Elian could feel its gaze pierce through him.
"I am the Sovereign of Silence," the figure intoned. "The guardian of regret. You come bearing pain like a banner, dragging memories behind you like chains. Why?"
Elian stood tall, voice steady despite the heaviness in his chest. "Because it's mine. Because it means something."
The Sovereign stepped down from the throne, dust curling around its feet. "All pain seeks purpose. But many deceive themselves with lies of meaning. Would you trade your heart's agony for peace, if it meant forgetting everything?"
Elian didn't answer right away.
He thought of her—of the warmth in her laugh, the way her eyes held the morning sun, the promises whispered beneath starlit skies. He thought of the fire. The screams. The betrayal.
"No," he said at last. "To forget the pain is to forget the love. I would rather carry both than lose what made me human."
The Sovereign extended a bony hand. In it, a single black feather.
"Then take this, bearer of sorrow. The feather of memory. It will guide you to the final gate—but beware: beyond it lies the heart of your suffering. And not all who reach it return."
Elian took the feather, feeling its unnatural weight—like holding a lifetime of sorrow pressed into a single object.
He turned from the throne, the ash rising behind him in silent waves. His journey neared its final trial.
The pain of his heart burned on.
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