Solthera's Great Hall was a cathedral of ancient light and heavy secrets. High above, crystal windows arched toward a stormy sky. The stained glass depicted the Drazhin—god-like ancestors who could walk through volcanoes and command lightning with a snap of their fingers.
But today, the hall felt cold. It smelled of old stone and incense. The castle itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Aetheron Vaeltheron walked toward the royal dais. Every step of his leather boots echoed like a drumbeat. His hair, once black as a raven's wing, was now streaked with silver. These were the marks of brutal wars and even more brutal winters.
He wasn't the young prince anymore. He was a man who had seen the world burn.
"The crown is not a prize, Aetheron," his father, King Eldric, had whispered on his deathbed. "It is a golden cage. Once it touches your brow, you no longer belong to yourself. You belong to the ghosts of those who wore it before you."
Aetheron looked up at the throne. Above it, the Crown of Solthera floated, held by ancient magic. Twisted silver and raw sapphires hummed with a restless blue light. It was waiting for his blood.
The High Seer emerged from the shadows. Her robes trailed like liquid starlight. Her face was a map of centuries, but her eyes burned with molten gold. She lifted the crown.
"By the blood of the Drazhin," her voice rang out like a silver blade. "I crown thee, Aetheron Vaeltheron, King of Solthera."
As the metal touched his brow, a surge of cold energy rushed through his bones. A thousand voices of past kings whispered in his mind at once.
"Vael'karyn Soltheris Aetheron!" the crowd roared. Glory to the King.
Aetheron stood tall. He drew his sword, Starfire. The blade, forged from a fallen star, hummed with blue fire. He turned to the man at his right—his closest friend, Lord Kaelor Drayen.
"I name Lord Kaelor Drayen as my Arch Chancellor," Aetheron's voice boomed.
Surprise flickered in Kaelor's hazel eyes before he masked it with a deep bow. They had bled in the same dirt as boys; now they would rule in the same hall.
But amidst the cheers, Aetheron's gaze drifted. One balcony was chillingly empty. No banners of the black sun. No armored guards.
The Kingdom of Zhalver was silent. And in Solthera, a silent Zhalver was more dangerous than one screaming for war.
Kaelor stepped closer, whispering so only the King could hear. "You didn't warn me about this ambush, my King."
Aetheron's jaw tightened. He looked at the empty balcony of his enemies. "I couldn't rule this ruin without you, Kaelor. And the ruin is coming sooner than we thought."