Page 80 of Healing Elixirs & Wicked Crows

But it would find something there to cling to.Not the broken, isolated woman the queen had tried to create, but someone surrounded by love, supported by bonds that no amount of darkness could sever completely.The real work was just beginning, but for the first time in centuries, it felt like the kind of work that might actually lead somewhere worth going.

The queen was gone, but her final curse would be the hardest one of all to break.And I was the only one who could do it.

For now, though, there were simpler tasks.I knelt beside the pile of ash that had once been the most feared woman in the realm and began to gather it carefully into a silk pouch.Even in death, such concentrated darkness needed to be handled with respect.

"What will you do with it?"Briar asked softly, her voice hoarse from battle.

"Plant it," I said without hesitation."In the deepest part of a healing garden, where it can be transformed into something that helps rather than harms.Death makes the richest soil, if you know how to tend it properly."

It was cottage wisdom applied to cosmic horror, but it felt right.Everything could be composted, given enough time and care.Even the queen's concentrated malice could be broken down into components that might nourish something beautiful.

Elias moved to help me, his hands steady as he held the pouch open.Through our bond, I felt his understanding, this was how we would rebuild.Not through grand proclamations or sweeping political reforms, but through the patient, daily work of tending what had been broken until it could grow into something new.

"The cottage feels very far away," I murmured, sealing the pouch with a simple binding spell.

"We'll get back to it," he promised."But we're bringing more with us now.The knowledge of how to tend darkness until it becomes light."

Around us, the throne room still echoed with the aftermath of power, but here in this small circle of family, there was only the familiar rhythm of cleaning up after death and preparing the ground for new growth.The political work would come later.

We stepped through the shattered archway of the throne room, the morning’s first rays of golden light pooling across the broken stone.The air outside smelled of ash and flowers, of endings and beginnings.I glanced sidelong at Darius, a sly smile tugging at my lips.

“So,” I began, drawing out the word.“You really were Herb all those years?”

Darius didn’t miss a step.“Guilty.”

I scoffed, half-laughing, half-mortified.“I made you eat seeds before dessert.”

“You did,” he said, solemn as a priest.“Chia.Sunflower.Pumpkin.Every night.”

Briar, walking just ahead, turned back at the sound of our voices.Her eyes found Darius’s, and in them was that same quiet wonder I’d always seen within them whenever they’d been near one another.“Even cursed, you stayed with me.”

Darius gave her a crooked smile.“You would’ve done the same.”

“I think I did,” she murmured, a faint blush warming her cheeks.

Elias trailed just behind, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed.“Honestly,” he muttered, “I should have figured it out sooner.I should have investigated Rosemary’s cottage more thoroughly—as soon as you refused the seeds…” Elias smirked.“It would have been obvious.You were always so picky about eating healthy.”

I snorted, barely keeping the laughter at bay.

Elias rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness behind it.“Of course my brother was the angry crow guarding a sleeping girl in a cursed tower.Should’ve seen that one coming.”

Darius gave a low chuckle.“You were busy saving the realm.”

“And you were busy judging my granola,” Elias replied, clapping a hand to his brother’s shoulder.

Laughter followed us into the dawning light of morning.The kind that didn’t need to chase away darkness because it had already begun to grow something new in its place.

Hope.

Crown's Weight

ELIAS

The queen's death sent ripples through the castle like waves across a disturbed pond, spreading whispers and rumors with uncanny speed.Word traveled swiftly from dungeon to tower, scullery to great hall.Trembling servants emerged from their long-held hiding places, guards with shaky hands removed their helms of tyranny, and nobles stepped from shadowed alcoves, their faces marked by the bewilderment of rediscovered freedom.

The stones exhaled with relief, releasing centuries of accumulated fear like a long-held breath.Tapestries stirred as if the castle could finally move freely.In the distance, chains fell...not metaphorical ones, but real iron bonds from forgotten cells, their locks crumbling to rust now that the sustaining magic had died with its creator.

Darius moved through the chaos with the natural authority of someone born to lead, his commands cutting through confusion like a blade through silk."Secure the dungeons," he ordered a group of guards who had thrown down their weapons in surrender, their faces masks of relief and residual terror."Free any remaining prisoners and see that they receive immediate medical attention.Send word to every corner of the realm: the tyrant is dead.The nightmare is over."