The cold greeted them like an old enemy.
Snow fell in slow spirals as Lucien and Ardana stepped from the crypt tunnels into the dying forest of Nirvahl, the northern borderland once ruled by the Empress of Ice.
Trees twisted like skeletal fingers, bark frostbitten, leaves long gone. The ground was black with ash and permafrost. No birds sang. No animals stirred. The sky above was a constant shade of slate.
They had crossed into the Frostgrave.
"Lovely place," Ardana muttered, cloaking herself in heat. "I can still feel her here. She's close."
Lucien scanned the horizon. "You said she was a seer."
"A prophet, yes. But more than that. Velka didn't just see the future—she rewrote it."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You can rewrite the future?"
"You can if you know which threads to cut."
He frowned, his boots crunching on a half-frozen path. "And she died how?"
Ardana snorted. "The gods couldn't kill her. So they froze her soul in time and buried it beneath her own palace."
"Let me guess," Lucien said, glancing up as black snow began to fall. "We're heading there."
❄️ The Palace of Frost and Silence
Two days later, they stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the remains of Ysaria's Palace—or what was left of it.
Once a citadel carved from glacier and silver, it now lay half-buried beneath jagged ice and frozen ruin. Massive statues of veiled women loomed along the ridge, weeping icicles from their empty eyes.
The wind here whispered in voices.
Lucien heard his name carried in the snow.
Lucien… Lucien Caelum… Crown-bearer… Unborn King…
He shivered.
Ardana tightened her gauntlets. "We're being watched."
They descended into the palace ruins. Each step crackled. The frostbite crept not just on skin, but inside the soul. Lucien felt his warmth pulled out of him in threads.
"The Crown is dimming," he murmured.
"She's near," Ardana said grimly. "She's testing you."
👁️ The Trial of the Oracle
At the heart of the shattered throne room, beneath a skylight of jagged ice, lay a frozen coffin. Clear crystal. Inside: a woman.
Velka Ysaria.
Even frozen, she was stunning—pale as moonlight, lips blue, hair silver and flowing like wind-stilled snow. Her robes shimmered faintly with runes no longer of this world.
Lucien stepped closer.
The Crown on his brow flickered.
Then—
A pulse of magic surged from the coffin.
The ground exploded in spirals of frost. Ice spears shot from the floor. Ghostly paladins formed from the snow—suits of armor filled with screaming souls.
Ten of them. All wielding glowing swords marked with divine runes.
Ardana leapt into battle with a roar of flame, incinerating two with a blast from her palm.
Lucien ducked a spear and rolled behind a broken pillar. "Tell me this is part of the ritual!"
"She's not dead-dead," Ardana shouted, melting three more. "She's testing your resolve!"
"Test me less violently!"
Lucien sprinted toward the coffin, dodging blades. One paladin swung at him—he ducked and plunged his hand onto the ice casing.
His blood spread across the crystal.
The Crown pulsed.
Everything froze.
Literally.
Time stopped.
🧊 The Ice Between Moments
Lucien stood in a dream.
Or a memory.
He floated in a field of endless white, weightless, breathless. A woman stood before him now—Velka—no longer in the coffin. Her robes flowed like glacier winds, her skin pale silver, her eyes the color of frozen prophecy.
"You came," she said. Her voice echoed in every direction.
"You called," Lucien replied, cautious. "You froze me."
"I needed to see your truth. Many want power. Few want purpose."
"I want both," he said.
"You will bleed for both," she whispered.
She reached out, her hand cold as eternity. Her fingers touched his brow—and visions ripped through him.
👁️ Lucien's Future (Seen by Velka)
He stood over a mountain of bones, the Crown burning like a sun.
He kissed a woman of stars—then watched her die by his hand.
He knelt at a throne not his own, whispering an apology.
The gods knelt before him—but his eyes were empty.
Ardana screamed in betrayal.
Velka wept ice.
And at the end… nothing but darkness. Endless, devouring, and cold.
Lucien staggered back, gasping.
Velka floated before him again, unmoved.
"These are your threads," she said softly. "Not all must come to pass. But all can."
Lucien looked up, jaw clenched. "Can you change them?"
She offered her hand.
"I can try."
🧊 The Binding of the Oracle
Back in the real world, the magic shattered. Ice paladins exploded into snow. Time resumed.
Velka stood barefoot on the shattered crystal coffin, alive, glowing faintly.
"I accept your bond," she said.
Lucien extended his hand, blood dripping. "Velka Ysaria—Empress of Ice. Will you serve the Undying Throne?"
She smiled faintly, pressing her fingers to his.
"I will serve no throne. But I will serve you, Lucien Caelum."
Their hands ignited in pale blue fire.
The Soul Oath flared.
Ardana watched from a corner, arms crossed, eyes wary.
And now there were two.
🧭 Meanwhile: In the Divine Halls
The Empress of Light stared into a mirror of gold and starlight.
"He's bound the Oracle," she said.
The Empress of Blood snarled. "He's building a rebellion."
"No," said the Empress of Fate, drawing another card from her deck.
It showed a man surrounded by queens. One blade at his back. One kiss on his mouth. One throne in his eyes.
Fate's eyes narrowed.
"He's building a family."
🖋️ End of Chapter 3
📣 CTA (Call-to-Action)
Velka sees a future of blood, betrayal, and fire… but she joins Lucien anyway.
How long can he keep the loyalty of his undead queens—before fate turns against him?
⚔️ Add Crown of the Dead to your library and comment:
Would you trust Ardana or Velka with your soul?
✅ Next Chapter: "Thorns and Blood"
The hunt for the Blood Empress, a sadistic sorceress who once ruled a crimson jungle of living magic.
Lucien will face her twisted cult… and her deadly conditions for resurrection.
Also: Ardana and Velka clash for the first time.