The path twisted deeper into the heart of the moonlit forest, where the air thickened and the trees grew tall and solemn like ancient guardians. The silver bark shimmered as if alive, and every step Elara took felt like it echoed in a place beyond sound—somewhere deeper, older.
Kael said little. His eyes remained fixed ahead, though Elara could tell he was listening—to the forest, to her footsteps, to the strange hush that seemed to fall the farther they walked. As though the world were holding its breath.
Elara's thoughts, however, were anything but silent.
Visions kept flashing through her mind. The woman with starfire eyes. A song she could almost remember. A throne, and at its foot, blood staining white marble.
Her feet stumbled on a root, dragging her back to the present. She inhaled sharply and looked up. Before them, the trees parted, revealing a sunken clearing cradling a mound of smooth black stone, ringed by a circle of glowing runes. The air thrummed here. Magic pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This is it," Kael said. "The Stone of Remembering."
Elara stared at it. "It looks like a grave."
"It is. And it isn't."
She stepped forward, drawn by something she didn't understand. The stone seemed to pull her in, every inch closer making her heart beat faster—not with fear, but with recognition.
"Touch it," Kael said gently. "It will show you who you are."
Elara hesitated. Then she reached out, her fingers brushing the stone's surface.
And the world shattered.
---
The forest vanished.
She stood on a battlefield of ash and fire. Above her, a sky split by lightning. Below, the earth churned red with blood. At the center of it all stood a woman—tall, radiant, cloaked in white and silver. Her face was Elara's, older and sharper, eyes full of sorrow.
Behind her was the Crowned Heart, floating above a pedestal. It pulsed with blinding light.
"Who are you?" Elara whispered.
The woman turned.
"I am what you will become," she said. "If you do not turn away."
Elara stepped back. "What does that mean?"
But the woman didn't answer. The vision swirled, shifting. A cradle. A lullaby. A woman screaming. A blade descending. Fire.
And then—darkness.
---
Elara collapsed to her knees, gasping as the vision faded. Her hands trembled.
Kael was beside her in a second, steadying her.
"You saw something," he said quietly.
"I… I saw me. Or someone like me. A queen. A war. The crown…"
Kael's jaw tightened. "The Crowned Heart doesn't just choose rulers. It remembers them. Their triumphs. Their failures. Their madness."
Elara looked at him, fear creeping into her voice. "She said I'd become her. If I didn't turn away."
Kael hesitated, then nodded. "Some rulers were consumed by the crown. It amplifies what's in your heart. If you rule in fear, you become terror. If you rule in grief, you become sorrow."
Elara sat back, stunned. "So what's in my heart, Kael?"
He met her gaze. "That's what you have to find out. Before the crown does."
A wind blew through the clearing, stirring the runes into a shimmer.
And somewhere deep within the stone, a voice echoed—not spoken, but felt.
> "Remember who you are… and who you could become."
Elara rose slowly. Her legs were weak, but her eyes were stronger.
She still didn't know who she was.
But now, she knew where to start looking.
And whatever waited at the Moonspire—crown, truth, or curse—she would face it.
Not because she was ready.
But because she had to be.