The day after the serpent vanished, the world felt different—lighter in some places, unbearably heavy in others. Alina could hear the change in the silence. Birds refused to sing. Winds murmured secrets in her ears.
The sky had not cleared.
It had simply... paused.
Selene stayed by her side, silent but steady, watching for signs the bond had altered Alina beyond return.
At dusk, emissaries began to arrive—figures cloaked in royal colors and ruined armor. Not rulers. Survivors.
They bowed.
Not to the Hollow.
To her.
A man with a shattered crown knelt. "We were warned you would awaken it. That you would wear it."
Alina frowned. "Wear what?"
He opened a scorched case.
Inside was a crown—black as obsidian, veined with fire. It hummed with the same memory-sorcery that laced her blade.
"The Echo Crown," Selene whispered. "Forged by the First Flame. Lost to the Serpent's Sleep."
Alina stared at it. "I didn't ask for a throne."
The emissary looked up. "You didn't need to. It's not a reward. It's a burden. And it's yours."
She reached out—hesitated—then touched it.
And the moment she did, the crown melted into flame and reformed on her head.
Every surviving kingdom felt the shift.
A ruler hadn't been chosen.
A reckoning had begun.
Selene stepped beside her. "So what now?"
Alina's eyes glowed again. "Now the cursed don't kneel. The world does."
Above them, thunder cracked.
Far to the east, something stirred in response.
A kingdom that had stayed silent.
And would not remain silent for long.