The ghost of her brother appeared in her sleep again. His voice echoed through the empty corridors of her dreams: “Take the crown, Scarlet. Or it takes you.”
Seina woke cold, her daughter nestled beside her. She stared at the worn stone ceiling of the cavern, heart thudding like a war drum.
They had survived the ambush. Annora’s army had retreated, but the game had shifted. The throne wasn’t a relic anymore—it was bait, a battlefield, a bargaining chip.
Kaydence found her sharpening her blades at dawn.
“You slept?” he asked.
She gave a dry laugh. “Barely. He’s haunting me again.”
“Your brother?”
She nodded. “He always told me I’d have to choose. Power or peace.”
“And what do you choose now?”
She paused. “The crown. But not for me. For her.”
A Royal Reckoning
They traveled east to the ruins of Ghallan’s Gate, a fortress abandoned after the last war. Seina had the Black Veil loyalists meet her there—old friends, old enemies. Not all came in peace.
Jareth addressed them from the crumbling dais. “We follow a queen with no throne, no coronation. But every blade here owes her their life.”
The soldiers roared.
Kaydence took her hand as they stepped forward. Seina stood tall, cloaked in her mother’s colors—obsidian and silver. Her daughter, small but fierce, clung to her leg.
“I do not claim this crown for power,” Seina said. “I claim it because our children deserve more than ashes.”
Lune presented the artifact: the Bone Crown, fashioned from the ribs of the last sovereign. It pulsed with ancient magic. It was said only the rightful heir could wear it without bleeding.
Seina placed it on her head.
And bled.
But she didn’t flinch.
That night, alone on the ramparts, she saw Miro.
“I wondered when you’d crawl back,” she said.
He approached with his hands raised. “I know I betrayed you. I know I ran.”
“You killed for Annora.”
“I thought she was the future. I was wrong.”
“Why are you here, Miro?”
“To fight for what’s left of my soul. And for her.” He looked at the sleeping child nearby.
Seina narrowed her eyes. “She’s not a bargaining chip.”
“No,” Miro said softly. “She’s hope. Yours. And maybe mine too.”
By morning, they marched.
A thousand strong. The Bone Crown gleamed. Seina rode at the front with Kaydence beside her, the child between them on horseback.
Annora’s spies watched. Let them.
“She’ll strike soon,” Kaydence warned.
“I know,” Seina said.
They crossed the valley by dusk. The last battlefield waited ahead.
Night had fallen like a velvet noose, and Seina stood at the altar of her ancestors, the Bone Crown resting in her lap, heavy as guilt.
The torchlight flickered across her face, painting her in gold and shadow. Around her, the last loyal houses of the Black Veil were gathered for the rite. This wasn’t just ceremony. It was absolution—or damnation.
She had taken the crown. Now, she would take the war.
Kaydence stood beside her, his eyes sharper than his blade. “Once you say the prayer, there’s no turning back.”
Seina met his gaze. “I already crossed the line when I was ten years old and watched my mother burn.”
He said nothing. He knew better than to speak against a storm.
The Serpent’s Prayer
Seina stepped onto the altar, raised the crown high, and recited the vow every Black Veil monarch had whispered before blood was spilled in their name.
“By ash and scar, by oath and flame, I rise not as ruler, but as reckoning. Let my blood be blade, Let my soul be shield, Let my enemies learn the language of ruin.”
Thunder cracked like approval. Somewhere in the crowd, Miro bowed his head.
“She means it,” he whispered to Jareth. “She’s not wearing that crown. It’s wearing her.”
Annora’s spies watched from the cliffs. When they returned to her camp, their report chilled the bone.
“She’s crowned herself with the Bone. And spoke the prayer.”
Annora paled. “Then she’s gone full Veil.”
“You should be afraid,” one spy warned.
She turned, her voice poison silk. “She should be afraid. I’ve already slit one queen’s throat. I can do it again.”
But the truth clawed at her—Seina was no longer just the daughter of a ghost. She was the ghost, given flesh and fury.
That night, assassins crept into Ghallan’s Gate.
They came for the child.
They never made it past the courtyard.
Kaydence’s sword flashed like silver fire. Seina moved like death incarnate. When the last assassin lay broken at her feet, she whispered to the night,
“Annora, I’ll repay you for this with interest.”
Miro appeared from the shadows. “There’s more coming.”
“How many?”
“Enough to call it war.”
She met Kaydence’s eyes. “Then let’s give them one.”
To Be Continued..