Chapter 3: The Village Reacts
Elara had barely slept the night before. Her thoughts kept returning to the crown—the way it pulsed on her head, the visions she had seen, and the strange whispering voice that seemed to guide her. She had survived a curse that had killed every queen before her. Somehow, she had survived. Somehow, she had been chosen.
She had to see the villagers. She had to know if anyone else would notice.
It wasn't far back to her small village. The path was familiar—the forest that had seemed so dark and endless yesterday now felt almost ordinary in the bright morning sunlight. But even as she walked, she could feel the crown hum softly, as if it was alive, as if it knew she was returning to the place that had always felt too small for her.
As she neared the village, she saw children running and playing in the dirt streets. Farmers worked in the fields, and merchants shouted their wares. Everything seemed normal… but it wouldn't stay that way. Not after what had happened.
Elara stepped into the village square. She wore simple clothes, as she always had, but the crown sat lightly on her head. Its faint golden glow was almost invisible in the daylight, but it was there.
She tried to ignore the curious glances at first, focusing on her own steps. But whispers began immediately.
"Is that… Elara?" a woman asked, clutching her basket of apples.
"She's wearing… the crown?" another voice said, almost in disbelief.
Elara froze. She had not thought anyone would notice. She had survived the curse. The crown had chosen her. But she had not expected people to see her wearing it so openly.
By the time she reached the center of the village, a small crowd had gathered. Men, women, and even some children stared. Some of them whispered excitedly, some in fear, and some in awe.
"Elara…" an old man murmured, shaking his head. "She survived… she survived the cursed crown…"
Elara swallowed hard. She hadn't meant to draw attention, but the crown had a way of announcing itself, even faintly. And now, it seemed everyone in the village knew.
A woman stepped forward, clutching her child. "How… how is this possible?" she asked. Her voice trembled. "The stories… the curse… every queen…" She trailed off, staring at Elara in disbelief.
Elara looked down at the crown and touched it lightly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I… I just found it. And somehow… I'm still here."
The villagers exchanged worried glances. Some whispered about bad luck, some about miracles. A few looked afraid, as if the curse might somehow strike them for being near her.
A young boy stepped forward, curiosity brighter than fear in his eyes. "Does it hurt?" he asked.
Elara shook her head. "No," she said softly. "It doesn't hurt. It… it feels like it's giving me power."
The words made the villagers gasp. Power. They had heard stories of queens with power, but they had never seen it. And now, here it was, glowing faintly on the head of the girl they had always known as poor and ordinary.
Rumors spread faster than fire. By the afternoon, every home in the village had heard the news. The baker stopped kneading his dough to whisper to his wife about the girl who had survived the cursed crown. The blacksmith paused at his forge, hammer in hand, telling his apprentice that something magical had happened. Even the mayor of the village, a stern man with little patience for children or dreams, could not ignore the buzz.
Elara tried to keep moving, but everyone she passed stared at her. Some bowed slightly, as if instinctively recognizing the crown's power. Others crossed themselves or muttered prayers, unsure if the girl they had known for years was blessed—or doomed.
"Do you know what you're doing?" an older woman asked, her eyes wide with fear. "The crown… it has killed queens. It will kill you too!"
Elara stopped, meeting her gaze. She felt a strange courage rising inside her, stronger than fear. "I don't know why, but I survived," she said firmly. "I think… I can control it."
A hush fell over the villagers. No one had ever said such a thing. And then, slowly, whispers turned into excited murmurs.
"She's… she's the chosen one!" someone exclaimed.
"No, it's impossible!" another argued, though her voice trembled with uncertainty.
Elara realized that the crown was not just a crown anymore—it was a symbol. It represented something bigger than herself. Something powerful. And now, the village was beginning to notice.
By midday, the crowd had grown. People came from nearby streets, curious to see the girl who had survived the cursed crown. They asked questions, watched her carefully, and sometimes stepped back in fear. Some tried to touch the crown, but they quickly pulled their hands away, afraid of its magic.
Elara walked through the crowd, trying to stay calm. She did not want to frighten anyone, but she could not hide the truth. The crown had chosen her, and she had to accept it—even if no one else understood.
A merchant approached her, bowing slightly. "Elara… is it true?" he asked. "Did you really wear the crown and live?"
"Yes," she said softly. "I… I don't know why. But I did."
The man nodded, wide-eyed. "Then… then you are special. The stories… they may be true. You are the first to survive."
Elara felt a mix of fear and pride. She had survived something deadly, something ancient. But she also knew the crown was only the beginning. She had felt its power already, and she had seen the visions it showed her. There was much more to come—and she would need to learn quickly.
By evening, news had reached every corner of the village. Families whispered in their homes. Children told stories of Elara's courage at the schoolyard. Even the elders, who rarely spoke about magic or curses, gathered to discuss what had happened.
Some of the villagers were afraid. "What if the curse spreads?" they asked. "What if it's only a matter of time before she dies?"
Others were amazed. "She is alive," they said. "The crown obeys her. Perhaps she is destined for greatness."
Elara returned to her small home at the edge of the village. She was tired, her legs sore from walking and her mind buzzing with the day's events. The crown still glowed softly on her head, a constant reminder of the power she now carried.
Sitting down, she closed her eyes and tried to think. She had survived, yes—but the visions had shown her battles, kingdoms, and dangers far beyond anything she had ever imagined. She realized that her life would never be ordinary again.
She had to learn to control the crown. She had to understand its power. And she had to be ready for the challenges that were coming—because surviving the crown was only the first step.
The whispers in the village were just the beginning. Soon, people from outside would hear of the girl who had survived the cursed crown. And when they did, some would come to seek her help, some to challenge her, and some to destroy her.
Elara opened her eyes and looked at the crown. It pulsed softly, almost as if it were alive, waiting for her to act. She placed her hands gently on it, feeling the warmth spread through her.
"I will learn," she whispered. "I will control you. And I will survive… no matter what comes next."
The crown seemed to respond, glowing brighter for a moment. Elara smiled faintly. For the first time, she felt hope—and determination. The villagers could talk. Rumors could spread. Let them whisper. She had survived the curse. She had the crown. And she would face whatever came next… with courage.
That night, as the stars shone over the quiet village, Elara felt a strange sense of destiny. The crown hummed softly on her head, a reminder that her journey was only beginning. And deep down, she knew one thing for certain: the girl who had been poor, weak, and unnoticed was gone. In her place stood a girl chosen by fate, blessed with power, and ready to rise.
Tomorrow, she would begin to test the crown. Tomorrow, she would learn its secrets. And someday, she would become more than anyone could imagine.