Alette looks around, wide-eyed. “The end?”
“We don’t know that,” I say automatically, because I don’t trust anything in this place.
But even as I say it, the meadow answers. The grass parts ahead of us, bending back in a perfect line as if something unseen walks through it. A path opens where there was none before, leading toward a low rise of pale stone.
And on that stone… there’s a crown.
No one moves.
It isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. Not forged like a weapon. Not adorned like a court’s display piece. It looks older than all of that. Bone and gold, shaped into sharp, elegant points, threaded with small stones that catch the sunlight in flashes of red, green, blue, and silver.
All four courts. Bound together.
My stomach tightens.
“Why is there a crown?” Sylvian says quietly.
“No idea,” Cassius replies, suspicion in his voice.
Varua speaks again, her voice calm, unyielding. “You entered divided. Fire. Earth. Wind. Water. You brought your rivalries into the labyrinth, your distrust, your need for dominance.”
Ashton mutters, “She’s not wrong,” but there’s no humor in it.
“To restore the power of your people,” Varua continues, “you must end that division. The fae must be united under one ruler. The fighting must end.”
The words land heavy.One ruler. Not four kings. One.
“Whoever wears the crown will rule the fae,” she says. “Choose well.”
Silence follows. The kind that presses in on your ears until you can hear your own heartbeat.
Then the presence is gone. No voice. No pressure.
Just sunlight. Just the crown. Just us.
Ashton lets out a breath. “That’s… not what I was expecting.”
“No,” Sylvian agrees.
Alette shakes her head slowly. “You’re saying one of you has to wear it?”
“That’s what she said,” Cassius answers, like he’s still not sure.
“And the rest of you just… accept that?” she presses.
No one answers. Because we all know the truth. That isn’t how this works. How it’s ever worked. But maybe that’s the point. What we were doing before wasn’t working, maybe this will.
When we first started on this journey, I would’ve claimed the crown for myself, but now I know better. I don’t want control or dominance. I want what’s best for our people.
I look at Sylvian first. “You should wear it.”
His head snaps toward me. “No.”
“You’re steady,” I say. “You think before you act. You don’t let anger make your decisions. You care about what happens after the fight is over.”
“That doesn’t make me the right choice,” he says sharply. “It makes me a target. The other courts would never follow me without question.”
“They’d learn.”
