A Prayer For The Crown-shy Novels & Stories

I’ll be the crown. I cut a rune into the pedestal, blood-ink from my palm, the crown amplifying it. The shade-storm grows, shadows scratching the walls, cracking stone. I pull a scroll from my gown, inked with my orders: Crown me, or the Dominion burns. I toss it to Dante. “Get this to the council. Now.” He catches it, pausing. “You’re sure? If they turn on you—” “They won’t,” I cut in, aura flaring, knocking him back. “They’ll see Perez’s chaos and choose me. Go.”

The crown isn’t just settling now. It’s waking up.

Appreciated was another word with teeth. A cleric cleared his throat. “The kingdom has entered a period of intensified prayer.” Alina’s jaw tightened. So it had begun. “The people gather daily,” the cleric continued. “Fasts have been declared. Processions formed. Offerings given.” He paused, letting the weight of that settle. “And yet,” he added, “the Crown remains dim.” Dim. Not silent. Not dead. Dim. A warning word, chosen carefully. Alina met his gaze. “Prayer without listening does not awaken holy things.”

“This is not a circlet kissed by moons or forged by gods.” She turned in a slow circle. “This is pain made visible. This is grief made iron. This is every name they buried to build their empires.” She paused. Let her voice drop. “This is mine.” Venn spoke. “Will you place it on your head?” Sirelia looked at him. “No.” She set the crown on the altar. “Let it crown itself.” The flames beneath the altar flared. And the crown rose. It hovered. Spinning slowly. Blood wept from its edges.

And as she lowered it, my eyes closed and when she finally placed it over my head, a lone tear rolled down my cheek. The world came to a sudden halt around me. All I could feel now was the weight of the crown over my head. It wasn't only on my head, it was also on my shoulders now. In that moment, I prayed to the Almighty to make me a just ruler, the one I had always admired to be, not the one I'd already despised and fought against.

Why was there so much silence today? I looked between both of them. And then I saw it. That look. Oh. Oh hell no. Papa sighed. Dada didn’t say anything. “Papa,” I said, my voice dropping slightly. “Are you both trying to prank me because I said I never get married?” He hesitated. Which was already a problem. Because Papa never hesitated. Not like this. “Princess you know you can tell us if you had a one nightstand or something because there no way in hell you are pregnant yet claiming virginity,” he said slowly.