CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SKYE'S POV

The silver flames danced along the walls of the corridor, not burning the stone, but seemingly feeding upon it, turning the rough-hewn granite into something polished and reflective. Kael followed a few paces behind, his hand gripped so tightly on the pommel of his sword that his knuckles were white. He wasn't looking at me with his usual detached obedience anymore; there was a flicker of genuine dread in his eyes.

"Skye, wait," Eryx called out, his boots striking the floor with a rhythmic, heavy thud as he caught up to me. He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. The contact sent a jolt of static electricity crackling through the air between us. "You don't know what the Obsidian Crown represents. It isn't just a faction of rebels. It’s a collective of lineages that were discarded, purged, and forgotten. They don't want to rule; they want to erase."

I turned, pulling my arm free. My skin felt hot, vibrating with an energy that wasn't mine, yet felt entirely natural. "You spent eighty years waiting for a partner, Eryx. Well, here I am. Do you trust me to handle this, or were you only looking for a Queen who would sit quietly in the shadows while you fought your wars?"

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Eryx went still, his wolf clearly clawing at his composure, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost entirely black. "I trust you with my life," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I just don't trust the enemy."

"Then watch me," I replied.

We reached the southern perimeter in record time. The destruction was absolute. Where the great stone tower had stood, there was now only a jagged, clean-cut void. It looked as though a giant hand had reached down and simply deleted the architecture from existence. The night air rushed in, smelling of ozone and something sharp—metallic, like blood left to oxidize on an iron blade.

I stepped onto the precipice, the wind whipping my hair across my face. Below, the valley was a sea of ink, but there, carved into the very earth where the tower had once been, was the seal: a crown, spiked with obsidian shards, wreathed in flames that were frozen in time. It glowed with a sickly, violet light.

"It's a barrier," Kael muttered, stepping up beside us. "No one can get close to that light without being incinerated."

I didn't listen. I walked toward the edge of the ruin. My feet moved with a certainty that terrified me. The mountain was humming again, a low-frequency vibration that rattled my teeth.

*Claim it,* the mountain whispered. Not in my mind, but in the marrow of my bones.

I knelt at the edge of the void and pressed my palm against the cool, undisturbed stone surrounding the seal. I didn't reach for the power I had used in the quartz chamber; this was different. This required a different kind of authority. I closed my eyes and reached into the history of the fortress, into the layers of memory buried beneath the mortar.

I felt the voices of the architects who had laid these stones, the blood of the wolves who had defended them, and the ancient, primal connection that bound the Queen of this mountain to its core.

"I am not the one you purged," I whispered, my voice carrying over the wind. "And I am not the one you abandoned. I am the one who returned."

I shoved my consciousness into the seal. It resisted, a wave of cold, viscous magic pushing back, trying to liquefy my thoughts. I felt my nose begin to bleed, a warm trickle against my skin, but I didn't pull away. I flooded the seal with my own life force, grounding it in the present.

The violet light flickered, turned to a brilliant, blinding silver, and then shattered. The shockwave knocked Kael backward, but Eryx stood firm, his hand on my back, anchoring me to the earth as the mountain roared beneath our feet.

When the dust settled, the seal was gone. In its place was a message etched into the bedrock, written in a language that looked like ancient, jagged runes.

"What does it say?" Eryx asked, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. His touch was trembling.

I traced the runes with my fingertips. "It’s a countdown. Or perhaps an invitation."

"To what?" Kael asked, his voice strained.

"To the Conclave," I said, looking up at them. "They aren't just coming for me, Eryx. They're gathering the remnants of all the houses the Elders destroyed. They’re calling for a vote. They want to strip the crown from your head and return the throne to the 'rightful' bloodline."

"They want to start a civil war," Eryx spat, his gaze shifting to the dark horizon. "They think that because the temple is awake, the people will turn on me."

"Will they?" I asked, looking at him.

Eryx looked at the fortress around us, then back at me. "The people are tired of the Elders, Skye. They're tired of the fear. If the Obsidian Crown offers them a change, they’ll take it, even if it leads to fire."

I stood up, wiping the blood from my face. My reflection in the smooth stone of the ruin was different now. My eyes were still bronze, but they looked harder, more reflective. "Then we don't give them a choice. If they want a war for the throne, we give them a war for the future. But we don't fight it the way the Elders did."

"How then?" Kael asked.

I looked at the vast, dark kingdom below us. "We start by opening the gates. We stop hiding the power and we start using it to fix the rot. We show them that the monarchy isn't the problem—the parasite feeding on it is."

Eryx walked to the edge, standing beside me. He looked down at the valley, his profile etched against the moonlight like a statue of old gods. For the first time, he didn't look like a man burdened by his history. He looked like a King ready to reclaim his destiny.

"The Elders expect us to bunker down and defend," he said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "They expect us to play the game by their rules."

"Then let's break the board," I said.

The mountain groaned, a sound of stone settling, as if it were agreeing with us. It was time. The shadows of the throne were lifting, and in the light of the new day, the only things that would be left standing were the ones who dared to reach for the crown.

I took Eryx's hand, his skin rough against mine, his grip tight and unyielding. The war was coming, but for the first time, I wasn't afraid. I was home.