Chapter 22: The Crown's First Gift
The room was silent.
Elara sat alone in the old stone chamber beneath the castle. It was not a prison, nor a throne room. It was a place few people knew about—a quiet space where ancient magic slept.
King Araion had brought her here earlier that day.
"This room was built for the crown," he had said. "Long before the curse."
Now he waited near the doorway, arms crossed, watching her carefully.
"Do not force anything," he reminded her. "The crown does not respond to demand. Only to intent."
Elara nodded.
She closed her eyes.
The crown rested gently on her head, warm and calm. Its glow was faint today, like a slow breath.
Show me, she thought. Not power. Just understanding.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—something shifted.
The air in the room grew heavier, not threatening, but deep. Like the silence before rain. Elara felt a pull in her chest, soft but steady.
The crown pulsed once.
Images formed behind her eyes.
Stone halls long buried by time.
Voices whispering in a language she did not know—but somehow understood.
A circle of light, small and quiet.
Elara opened her eyes.
A faint glow had appeared around her hands. Not bright. Not sharp. Just a soft golden shimmer, like morning light.
Araion straightened. "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," Elara whispered. "It feels… old."
The light moved when she moved her fingers. It did not burn. It did not strike. It simply was.
"What am I doing?" she asked.
Araion stepped closer. "You are touching one of the crown's oldest abilities."
She looked at him. "Which is?"
"Wardlight," he said. "A minor power—but one long forgotten."
Elara frowned. "It doesn't feel dangerous."
"It isn't," Araion replied. "That is why it was used first."
She focused again. The light responded, spreading slowly around her like a thin shield.
It hummed softly.
"This power was meant to protect," Araion said. "Not attack. It shields truth, life, and intent."
Elara stood slowly. The light moved with her, forming a soft barrier around her body.
"It listens to me," she said, surprised.
"Yes," Araion said. "Because you are calm."
She tested it carefully. She thought of safety. The light thickened. She thought of fear—and it faded slightly.
"So it reflects my thoughts," she said.
"It reflects your heart," Araion corrected.
Elara swallowed.
She remembered the nobles. Their sharp words. Their hidden threats.
"Can it protect others?" she asked.
Araion hesitated. "In time. For now, focus on control."
She nodded and raised her hand gently.
The light extended outward, forming a small circle on the floor. Old runes appeared, glowing faintly, then vanished.
Araion's eyes widened.
"You didn't just activate it," he said. "You shaped it."
Elara looked at her hand, stunned. "I didn't mean to."
"That is the point," Araion said quietly. "You didn't force it."
The crown pulsed again—slightly brighter now.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed above them.
Voices.
Elara tensed. The light flickered.
"Stay calm," Araion said. "Feel the ground. Breathe."
She did.
The light steadied.
A moment later, one of the castle guards rushed in.
"My king," he said urgently. "There is unrest near the lower court. Two nobles are arguing. Magic was used."
Elara felt the wardlight respond before she did.
It moved—stretching outward, gentle but firm.
"What is happening?" she asked.
Araion studied her. "You are sensing disruption."
"I didn't try to," she said.
"You didn't need to," he replied. "The wardlight reacts to imbalance."
He turned to the guard. "Take me there."
Elara followed without thinking.
In the lower court, two nobles stood facing each other. Their voices were raised. One had summoned a flicker of dark energy.
Before anyone could react, Elara stepped forward.
She didn't shout.
She didn't command.
She simply lifted her hand.
The golden light spread across the floor, soft and wide.
The dark energy vanished instantly.
The air stilled.
Both nobles froze.
"What… is this?" one whispered.
Elara's voice was calm. "This place is protected."
The light did not threaten them. It simply stopped the conflict.
Araion felt it immediately.
No harm.
No fear.
Only order.
The nobles lowered their heads.
"We meant no harm," one said quickly.
Elara nodded. "Then let there be peace."
The wardlight faded slowly, like mist in sunlight.
The court was silent.
Araion looked at her—not as a king teaching a student—but as someone witnessing history.
"You controlled it in public," he said quietly once they were alone again.
"I didn't think," Elara said. "I just… knew."
"That is mastery," Araion replied.
She looked down at her hands. "It didn't feel like power."
"No," he agreed. "It felt like responsibility."
That night, Elara sat by her window, watching the moon rise.
The crown glowed softly.
"So this is one of your gifts," she murmured.
The crown pulsed.
She understood now.
Not all power was loud.
Not all strength destroyed.
Some power simply kept the world from breaking.
And this—this wardlight—was only the beginning.
Far away, ancient forces stirred.
The crown had awakened again.
And this time, it had found a queen who knew how to listen.