Kaelen pressed his palm against the ancient stone, whispering the words he had learned in secret. The sigils flared to life, and the hidden door groaned open. Moonlight kissed the chamber within, revealing the Crown of Aevir, its mithril gleam untouched by time.
Behind him, footsteps. He spun, blade drawn, as Lord Veyrion stepped into the light.
“You think one stolen crown will undo the darkness?” The sorcerer’s voice curled with disdain. Shadows coiled around his hands.
Kaelen lunged, but Veyrion’s spell struck first. Pain burned through him; his sword clattered to the ground. He clenched his teeth, reached out. His fingers brushed the crown. A shock of power surged through him.
The chamber trembled. The spell on him shattered. Kaelen rose, the crown’s energy coursing through his veins. With a single word, he unleashed its light.
Veyrion screamed as the radiance consumed him. Silence followed. Kaelen, breathless, placed the crown on his brow. The war was not over—but Aevir had its king.
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