The corpse shouldn't have had a crown.
Especially not one that looked exactly like mine.
But there it was—half-melted to bone, runes scorched along the jagged frame, still pulsing faint beneath the ash-choked pit like some buried ember refusing to die.
The scavengers whispered, circling closer—greedy, nervous, pretending they didn't taste the curse burning off that relic like old blood.
I didn't stick around.
My boots crunched ash as I backed off, the weight of the crown in my pack burning sharp against my spine. Its hum bled harder here, memories bleeding behind my eyes—fractured images of fire-split towers, gods bleeding gold across shattered marble, a voice crackling through the ruin:
"They will forget me… but they will choke on the ash."
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Agro's hooves stamped faint behind me, muscles tense, eyes sharp under the battered frame. Even wounded, he felt it too—the rot beneath Hollowstone's bones.
We moved fast, cutting through smoke-thick alleyways, past half-collapsed towers leaning like drunk ghosts. Hollowstone sagged around us—cracked banners drooping from rusted poles, ash dunes piled high along fractured roads, hollow-eyed survivors watching from the shadows.
A city still breathing—but only barely.
And everything here carried a price.
I found shelter quick—a hollow ruin tucked between broken spires, its arches melted by forgotten fire, relic glass glinting faint under moonlight. Agro stumbled after me, his flanks still raw, steps dragging but stubborn.
Good.
Inside, it was cold—stone walls weeping condensation, the faint hum of buried relics still thrumming underfoot. I stripped the pack fast, fingers numb as I pulled the crown free.
It pulsed brighter now—runes glowing faint through layers of soot, the hum threading molten along my ribs.
I stared down at it, jaw clenched.
One crown already ruined my life.
Now another rotted on a corpse's skull, identical down to the cursed etchings.
The gods never stop lying.
I wrapped the crown, buried it deep in the pack, and stood fast, every muscle tight.
The ground trembled faint beneath my boots—a low groan of stone shifting under pressure, relic glass humming sharper along the walls.
Time to move.
I dragged Agro back into the streets—the city thicker with smoke now, fewer crowds, sharper eyes tracking every step. Predators prowled along the fringes—mercenaries, scavenger crews, relic-runners with worn pistols and glinting knives.
My hand stayed close to the hilt of the battered sword strapped across my back—rough, old alloy, but better than nothing.
We cut toward the merchant quarter—pushed through market stalls strung with patchwork canopies, half-burned empire banners sagging like wet cloth. Traders barked prices, relic scrap stacked high, old weaponry gleaming faint with neural glass fragments.
I bartered fast—repaired Agro's rig, bought medical wraps, a crude blade sharpener, dried food that barely passed for edible. The few Ash Shards left in my pouch bled away quick—six left by the time I pulled clear.
Burnweight creeping up like a noose.
We kept moving, pressed deeper into the bones of the city—past scorched statues, shattered transit rails twisted like bones, alleyways bleeding smoke into the night.
The ground shuddered sharper beneath us—deep, low, seismic, the kind of wrong that crawls into your ribs.
I followed the tremor.
It led to the pit.
Beneath Hollowstone's center, scavengers clustered around the collapse—a jagged crater carved through cracked stone, relic alloy panels humming faint beneath the ash, runes flickering like old scars.
The corpse still rotted at the base.
Mouth frozen open, chest hollowed, skull crowned with a relic identical to mine.
I watched, breath tight, as scavengers circled the edges—some whispering, others slipping away, their eyes wide, their steps too careful.
They felt it.
The past clawing back.
The crown in my pack pulsed sharper now—its hum tangling through my skull, memory shards cracking behind my eyes. Fragments of a forgotten war. Gold banners burning black. Citadels cracking under godfire.
My heartbeat snapped into rhythm with the pulse.
No more waiting.
I turned fast, cutting down side streets, boots sliding over slagglass and fractured stone, Agro trailing close behind.
The city groaned around us—walls creaking, old tech panels flickering weak, the faint buzz of static bleeding through the mist.
I found an old stairwell carved into the ruins—a half-buried tunnel mouth yawning open beneath the ash dunes, empire sigils etched faint along the arch.
The crown's hum sharpened.
I clenched the sword hilt, adjusted the pack, checked Agro's reins.
The horizon still stretched beyond Hollowstone—roads unraveling across dead kingdoms, cities crumbling into forgotten dust.
But the tunnels whispered too.
Old bones.
Buried lies.
History the gods never wanted remembered.
And something deep below still breathing.
Agro's ears pinned, his hooves grinding faint into the stone.
The air tasted wrong—thick with ash, old smoke, the static charge of relic tech half-dead but pulsing faint beneath the surface.
I stepped toward the tunnel.
Toward whatever waited in the dark.
Toward another crown… or worse.
The past wouldn't stay buried.
And neither would I.