Chapter 53

The crown of the Starborn still glimmered on its pedestal, pulsing like a heart alive with silver fire. Serenya stood frozen before it, Kaelen’s blood still warm against her palm. The chamber was silent now, but echoes of the battle with Eloria clung to the air—burnt torches, cracked stone, the bitter taste of betrayal.

Kaelen’s voice, hoarse but steady, broke the silence.

“You can’t linger, Serenya. Every moment you hesitate gives Eloria and the Duke more ground.”

She turned to him, her heart aching at the sight of his pale face. Though her light had closed his wound, he was still weak, shadows carved deep beneath his eyes.

“I can’t leave you,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

His lips curved in that small, maddening smile. “You’ve already saved me. But you have to save them too—all of them. This kingdom won’t wait for me to heal.”

Her gaze flicked back to the crown, its silver arcs bending like eclipsed moons. For so long, she had run from her blood, from the destiny whispered in shadows. Now it stood in front of her, undeniable, waiting.

“Serenya.” Kaelen’s hand brushed hers. His touch was light, but his eyes were heavy with certainty. “If you claim that crown, the kingdom will either fracture… or be reborn. You must be ready for both.”

They left the chamber as dawn broke, its light spilling across the valley like molten gold. Serenya carried the crown in a wrapped cloth, its glow veiled but never extinguished. Kaelen leaned on her arm as they climbed the ridge, his strength slowly returning, though she knew he hid the depth of his pain.

At the summit, the world unfolded before them: the scattered villages of Crestfall to the east, the shimmering rivers that divided the Vale, and beyond them, the rising banners of Thalric Veynor’s army.

Serenya’s breath caught. The banners stretched like a sea of blood across the horizon—red and black, the Duke’s colors.

“He’s moved faster than we thought,” Kaelen said grimly. “He’ll reach the capital within days.”

“And Eloria will ride at his side,” Serenya murmured, gripping the cloth around the crown tighter. “She knows who I am now. She won’t stop until I’m broken.”

Kaelen’s eyes burned with quiet fire. “Then we can’t give her that chance.”

By dusk, they reached a hidden outpost carved into the cliffs, where Darian Crestfall waited with a cluster of loyal knights. The moment he saw Serenya, his expression hardened.

“You vanished for two nights,” he said, striding forward. His armor gleamed, though his jaw was shadowed by exhaustion. “Do you have any idea what chaos has spread in your absence? Villages torching each other in fear of the Duke’s spies. Nobles trading allegiances like coin. And you—” His gaze dropped to the bundle in her hands. “What is that?”

Serenya hesitated, then slowly unwrapped the cloth. The chamber filled with a faint glow, silver fire casting long shadows across the stone walls. Gasps rippled among the knights.

Darian’s eyes widened, but his voice was sharp. “The Crown of the Starborn.”

Kaelen’s hand hovered near his sword. “You know of it.”

“Every heir of Crestfall is taught the legend,” Darian said stiffly. “A crown forged from starlight itself, meant for the true ruler chosen by destiny. But legends twist, Serenya. Some say the crown brings salvation. Others say it brings ruin.”

Serenya lifted her chin. “And what do you say?”

Darian’s jaw tightened. His loyalty warred with the fear in his eyes. “I say the kingdom is already fractured enough. If you place that crown on your head without uniting the houses first, you’ll split what little remains.”

“Split?” Serenya’s voice shook. “The Duke already splits it with fire and blade. Eloria poisons it with lies. What more can I lose by claiming what is mine?”

Darian stepped closer, his tone like steel. “You could lose everyone. The lords will not kneel to a hidden heiress revealed overnight. They will fight you as fiercely as they fight him.”

Her heart pounded. The truth in his words struck deeper than she wished. She had dreamed of unmasking herself and having the world bend to its rightful heir. But crowns were not earned by dreams.

Kaelen’s hand found hers, steady. “Then we make them kneel,” he said.

Serenya looked between them, her protector and her knight, and for the first time, she felt the weight of a fractured kingdom pressing on her shoulders.

That night, as the outpost fell into uneasy sleep, Serenya wandered alone to the cliff’s edge. The crown lay heavy in her lap, its light pulsing with every beat of her heart. She thought of her mother’s whispers in the dark, of Maelis’s prophecy, of Eloria’s sneer: You don’t have the heart to claim a throne.

She closed her eyes.

“Do you doubt it?”

The voice startled her. She turned to find Lyra Esthaven emerging from the shadows, her dark braids catching the starlight. Her leather armor was scarred, her eyes sharp and weary.

“You move like a ghost,” Serenya said softly.

Lyra’s lips quirked. “And you glow like a star. It makes us even.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Lyra spoke again. “I’ve seen what crowns do to rulers. They crush them. Twist them. Sometimes they kill them.”

Serenya’s chest tightened. “And yet you followed me here.”

“I followed because I believe in you, not the crown,” Lyra said firmly. “Remember that, Serenya. The kingdom doesn’t need a relic of light. It needs someone willing to bleed for it.”

Serenya touched the crown, its silver arcs cold beneath her fingers. “And what if I bleed too much?”

Lyra’s gaze softened. “Then bleed knowing it mattered.”

By dawn, scouts returned with grim news. Thalric’s forces had razed another border village. Survivors fled to Crestfall’s gates, begging for protection. The council of nobles had splintered—half swearing loyalty to the Duke, half hesitating in fear of Serenya’s claim.

“A kingdom fractured,” Darian muttered as the reports spilled across the war table. “We are one breath from collapse.”

Serenya looked around at the faces gathered: Kaelen, pale but resolute; Darian, torn between duty and doubt; Lyra, fierce and unflinching; and a dozen knights who waited with wary eyes.

Her voice rose steady, clear. “Then we make our stand before it shatters completely. Tonight, we ride for Dawnspire. If the lords won’t unite under whispers, they’ll unite under the sight of their true heir.”

Gasps circled the chamber. Darian slammed his hand on the table. “You mean to reveal yourself now? To march into Dawnspire wearing that crown? You’ll ignite civil war before the Duke even arrives.”

“War has already begun,” Serenya said. She lifted the crown, and its light spilled across their faces. “The only choice left is who survives it.”

Kaelen’s gaze locked with hers. “Then we ride.”

And though fear still burned in her chest, Serenya felt something deeper ignite—resolve. The crown of the Starborn thrummed against her palms as if it, too, had been waiting for this moment.

A kingdom fractured.

A crown awakened.

And a destiny that could no longer be denied.