But no crown sat atop it.
There was only a silver dagger, ornate carvings etched into its double-edged blade. They curved up its hilt, where a sparkling ruby was setin the center of the pommel.
Aurelia focused her starlit eyes on Cedric as he and Elyria approached, and that prickle turned into a shiver that crawled down Cedric’s back. Beside him, Elyria stiffened, her hand searching for his, fingers tightening when she found him. She folded her wings flat against her back as the two of them came to a stop before the celestial.
They held their collective breath as Aurelia began to speak, the multitudes of her voice stretching into the open air.
“You have done well, my champions. So well, to have made it this far. Truly, it is beyond my wildest hopes that you stand here before me today.”
Elyria shifted her weight, an unease poking through her typically resilient demeanor that only made Cedric more nervous in turn.
“You have fought, you have learned, you have shown power and mercy, both. And most of all, you have done ittogether. Through darkness and doubt, fire and shadow, life and death, you have forged a true bond—the kind that is difficult to craft, yes, but also difficult to break. Tested in the fires of trust, bound by something deeper than ambition. And you have emerged, both of you champions, both of you victors.”
Aurelia’s voice echoed off the empty stone benches of the amphitheater, and Cedric bit back the sensation that this all felt far more like a show than a trial.
“And the crown?” he asked, a knot twisting in his stomach.
“The crown is waiting,” she said, her star-filled eyes glassy. “And while this bond of trust has carried you here, while you have brought each other to this point...”
There was no mistaking the sudden sadness in her voice, and Cedric’s blood went cold as her nebulous gaze fell on the dagger atop the pedestal.
“...only one will walk away with the prize you seek. A piece of a power greater than any mortal mind can comprehend.”
Elyria went still, all notions of her nervous shifting eradicated by the celestial’s words. “What does that mean?”
Several moments passed before Aurelia answered. “To wear the crown is to carry the weight of its past. Every broken oath, every good intention turned wrong, every fallen comrade...every regret buried with them. Rulers are not made by crowns and titles alone—they are forged in the crucible of sacrifice. Those unwilling to burn do not deserve the throne.”
Cedric stared blankly at the celestial. “Sacrifice,” he repeated.
“Who said anything about ruling?” Elyria’s voice was sharp, cutting. “Fuck the throne. Fuck wearing your crown. We only want it because it is the key to getting out of here.”
Aurelia did not deign to acknowledge her protestations. The celestialdid not pause, did not falter or stutter as she continued. “The crown cannot be won through strength or will or magic alone. This, here, is the final test of the Arcane Crucible, and of the bond you have forged. For the claim of one must be laid down, their life willingly given, for the sake of the other.” She paused. “This is where all others have failed.”
“A life for a life.” Cedric’s mind spun in frantic circles, Evander’s earlier words whipping through his head like shards of glass. No wonder Varyth Malchior had been unsuccessful. He and Evander might have made it to this place, might have heard these same words, but to think that whatever existed between them could pass for a true bond seemed ludicrous. Cedric wondered if they’d already come to their nefarious truce by the time they stood here, or if Malchior’s dark promises only came after he realized he could not claim the crown. He supposed it didn’t really matter, in the end.
“A life foralllife,” Aurelia corrected. “One must trust enough to give, and one must trust enough to receive. For balance.”
“Forbalance?” hissed Elyria. “Where is the balance in demanding death for no reason?”
“Power demands sacrifice. You came through the Gate with doubt in your heart and enemies at your back. You overcame them, repaired bonds where they existed, and forged new ones where there were none. It is with great pride and triumph that I can see you have shown yourselves truly worthy of this prize. Now the time has come to claim it.”
“You’re mad,” Elyria seethed, her body trembling. Shadows began leaking from her skin, wisps of black smoke wafting over her. “This...this was the end goal all along? Force us to ally, make us work together, make uscare? Knowing all along that one of us would be served up like a lamb for the slaughter?”
Aurelia said nothing.
“This is all your fault! Because of your interference! Your best-laid plans that failed!” She was breathing fast now—too fast, shadows spinning off her in waves. “Youare the reason Malakar came to power, the reason the world was split in three. Where isyoursacrifice?Yourloss?”
The stars above seemed to burn brighter as the celestial’s divine composure finally cracked. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I have rejoiced in all the lives lost in the Sanctum? Do you think this iswhat I wanted? This isneverwhat I wanted! I am bound to this forsaken place, the same as you. I want this to be done just as much as you do.”
“Then give us the crown!”
“I cannot.”
Elyria let out a yell of frustration, and Cedric wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, to help her find her breath, to assure her that they’d figure something out, that they would find another way. But one look at the tortured expression on the celestial’s face and he knew it was impossible.
Aurelia sighed, her multi-tonal voice solemn, the sound heavy. One by one, the stars dotting her skin blinked out, until more and more she blended in with the sky above. “You are both worthy champions. This final choice belongs to you.”
Then she was gone in a burst of dazzling starlight. Moments later, the night sky filled with glorious color—green and violet and scarlet and gold—as the aurora unfurled above them.
