The cold stone of the palace floor sent a shiver through Selene as she stood before the great hall, the weight of her gown dragging her down. The air was thick with the scent of roses, but the softness of the flowers did little to calm the storm brewing inside her. Today, everything changed.
Today, she would take the throne.
It was supposed to be an honor. It was supposed to be the dream of every noble-born girl: a chance to wear the Crown of Nalore and rule a kingdom, to stand tall in a palace filled with grandeur. But all Selene could feel was fear, the kind that gnawed at her insides and made her stomach twist into knots. Her father had passed, and now it was her turn.
"Your Highness?" a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. Selene turned to see a servant holding out a tray with a crystal goblet of wine.
For a moment, she just stared at it. The wine was supposed to calm her, to steady her nerves, but all it did was remind her of how little control she had over her own life now. Her fingers brushed the glass, but she hesitated before drinking.
The room was filled with the murmurs of nobles and guests, their eyes flicking to her as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Everyone was watching. Everyone knew about the Crown of Nalore—the ancient, cursed thing that had brought madness to generations of rulers. No one dared to speak its name too loudly, but Selene could feel it in the air. The weight of it, hanging over her like an omen.
But what else could she do? She had no choice.
"Your Highness," the servant said again, this time more insistently. With a forced smile, Selene took the goblet and drained it in one swift motion, the bitter taste crawling down her throat. It didn't help. Nothing could help.
She barely noticed as the grand doors to the throne room swung open with a creak, the soft murmur of voices falling into silence. All eyes turned toward her. Her heartbeat quickened as she lifted her chin, pushing past the lump in her throat. King Aurelius, the royal mage, stepped forward, his robes sweeping behind him like a shadow. His eyes, ancient and too knowing, met hers.
"It is time," he said, his voice low but unmistakable.
She nodded, even though her legs were shaking. She knew what he meant. She'd known for weeks that today would come, but now that it was here, everything felt wrong. The crown sat on the pedestal in front of her, gleaming gold in the torchlight, almost like it was calling to her.
**The Crown of Nalore.**
It had cursed her family for centuries, brought them to ruin time and time again. But now, it would be placed on her head.
Selene's hand trembled as she reached for it. The moment her fingers brushed the cool metal, a jolt shot through her body, sharp and cold. Her vision blurred for an instant, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.
"Are you alright, Your Highness?" the servant asked, her voice soft but concerned.
"I'm fine," Selene whispered, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She straightened up, heart hammering. The crown. She had to wear it.
With a final, steadying breath, she lifted it and placed it on her head. The room was silent. She could feel every single gaze upon her, each one heavy with expectation. But all she could feel was the strange weight of the crown, not just on her head but pressing into her soul.
As the first round of applause echoed in the hall, Selene's eyes drifted to the corner of the room. There, standing in the shadows, was a figure—someone she didn't recognize, but someone whose gaze seemed to pierce straight through her. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment, his lips curling into something like a smile, but there was no warmth in it.
The moment passed quickly, but the feeling lingered. She forced herself to focus on the room again, her hand instinctively brushing the crown.
"You are the heir," King Aurelius declared, his voice steady. "The throne awaits you, my Queen."
But she wasn't ready. She never had been. Her heart twisted as she looked around the grand hall, the weight of her new title settling in. It wasn't just the crown she had to bear—it was the legacy, the bloodshed, the endless history of a family bound to power and tragedy. She didn't ask for any of this.
And yet, here she was.
The crown might have been forced upon her, but it would not define her.
Not if she could help it.
As the cheering continued, Selene felt something stir deep within her—a question, a whisper.
**What had she just agreed to?**