Chapter 6: The First Meeting
Elara followed Arion through the thick forest surrounding the outskirts of his dark, towering castle. Every step she took, the crown on her head pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat. She was nervous, but also determined. She had survived the cursed crown. She had learned to control it. And now she was going to meet the immortal king properly, the one who had cast the curse centuries ago.
The castle loomed before her, taller and darker than any building she had ever seen. Its walls were black stone, polished to a sharp gleam, and the towers seemed to pierce the sky. The air was heavy, and magic hung in the atmosphere like an invisible fog.
Arion led her into the great hall. The room was enormous, with ceilings that disappeared into shadows. Ancient banners hung from the walls, embroidered with golden symbols she did not recognize. Torches flickered along the walls, casting strange, moving shadows.
Elara felt small, almost insignificant. But she steadied herself. She had the crown. She had survived. She was not just a poor girl anymore.
Arion stopped in the center of the hall and turned to face her. His black armor gleamed even in the dim torchlight, and his eyes—sharp, piercing, and ancient—locked on hers.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with tension and unspoken thoughts.
Finally, Arion broke the silence. "I never thought I would see you alive," he said, his voice low and steady. "Not you. Not the one who survived the crown."
Elara met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. "I… I don't know why I survived," she admitted. "But I can control the crown. I can make it obey me."
Arion's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her with intense focus. "Control it?" he repeated, as if testing the word. "Do you understand what you are saying?"
Elara nodded. "I've learned a little. I've made it move, create light, form shields… I can make it do what I imagine, if I concentrate."
Arion's expression changed, a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and something she couldn't quite place. "Impossible," he murmured. "No queen has survived this long. No one has ever commanded the crown. And yet… here you are."
Elara's heartbeat quickened. She had expected him to be angry, to scold her for daring to wear it. But instead, he looked… shocked.
"You… you survived," he repeated. "And you wield its power."
"Yes," she said firmly, holding her head high. "I survived. And I can control it."
Arion paced slowly around her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Centuries of planning, centuries of waiting… and yet, you have done what no one else could. How?"
Elara shrugged. "I don't know. I just… I focused. I didn't give in to fear. I didn't try to fight it. I just… listened."
The king stopped pacing and looked at her closely. "Listening… not fighting. Interesting." He took a deep breath. "You are different from the others. Different from every queen who has worn this crown before."
Elara felt a strange mix of pride and fear. "Different how?" she asked.
Arion's eyes softened slightly, but his tone remained serious. "You are strong, yes. But more than that… you are calm. You are focused. And most importantly, you do not seek power for yourself."
Elara blinked. "I don't?"
"No," Arion said. "Most who wear this crown are ambitious, greedy, or reckless. They crave power, and the crown destroys them. But you… you survived because you are not afraid to wield it carefully. You are not ruled by it. And that… makes you dangerous. And valuable."
Elara swallowed hard. "Valuable?"
Arion nodded. "Yes. The crown obeys you because you understand it, in a way no one else could. And that… is why I am here."
Elara's pulse quickened. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Why come now?"
"The crown has awakened fully," he said. "It has sensed your survival, your control, your strength. It called to me. I felt it across the lands." He paused, his gaze sharp. "I had to see for myself if the rumors were true."
Elara nodded slowly. "They are true," she said softly. "I survived. And I can control it."
Arion's expression shifted again. For the first time, there was something almost like awe in his eyes. "You… you are the first queen in centuries to survive. You are the first to command the crown. This… changes everything."
Elara felt a shiver run down her spine. The crown pulsed strongly on her head, as if agreeing with him. It was alive, and it seemed to sense his presence too.
"You must understand something," Arion continued, his voice low and serious. "This crown is not just a tool. It is alive, powerful, and dangerous. It will obey you, yes—but only because it recognizes your strength. And only as long as you do not falter. If you fail… it will destroy you."
Elara nodded, determination rising inside her. "I won't fail," she said firmly. "I've survived this long. I can control it. I can master it."
Arion studied her silently for a moment. "Confidence is good," he said finally. "But do not mistake it for experience. The crown will test you. It will push you to your limits. And it will show you things… things you may not want to see."
Elara swallowed hard. "I'm ready," she said.
Arion's gaze softened slightly again, though his voice remained serious. "You are brave… perhaps too brave. But that is also why the crown chose you. And why I… must guide you."
Elara's pulse quickened. She had expected anger, distrust, even threats. But instead, she felt something else. Respect. Recognition. Even a faint sense of approval.
"You will train with me," Arion continued. "You will learn the crown's power, its secrets, and its dangers. You will be tested… and only by surviving those tests will you truly understand what you are capable of."
Elara nodded. "I… I will do whatever it takes," she said.
Arion studied her one last time, then nodded. "Very well," he said. "We begin tomorrow. Tonight, rest. Tomorrow… your journey truly begins."
Elara felt a strange mixture of excitement and fear. She had survived the crown. She had controlled it. And now, she would learn from the immortal king himself.
As she left the great hall and made her way to a small room prepared for her, she felt the crown pulse softly on her head. She placed her hands on it, feeling its warmth.
We are ready, it seemed to whisper.
Elara smiled faintly. Yes… we are ready.
That night, she lay awake, thinking about the day. She had met Arion properly. She had faced his piercing gaze. And she had survived not just the crown, but the tension, the doubt, and the weight of history itself.
She knew that tomorrow, her training would begin. She would face tests she could not imagine, challenges that would push her to her limits. But she also knew something else: she had survived worse. She had the crown, she had control, and she had courage.
And with that, she closed her eyes, the crown humming softly beside her, as if promising that the journey ahead—though dangerous—was hers to face.
Elara was no longer just a poor girl from a small village. She was the chosen one, the survivor of the cursed crown, and the apprentice of the immortal king himself.
And tomorrow… everything would change.