Chereads / The Silent Crown Of Authority / Chapter 9 - The Shadows Of The Past

Chapter 9 - The Shadows Of The Past

As the door creaks open, the oppressive darkness that had swallowed the throne room begins to recede. The air grows warmer, the faint hum of the Silent Crown now a steady pulse in my ears. I step forward, my every instinct screaming that something is wrong, something I haven't yet seen or understood.

Beyond the door lies a new chamber, vast and cold. The floor is made of dark, polished stone, and the walls stretch high into an abyss, too vast to see. The only source of light is a series of flickering torches along the edges of the room, casting long, trembling shadows. But even as I walk deeper into the space, I feel the presence of something else—something far more sinister.

The room feels alive, like a predator waiting in the dark.

Suddenly, a deep, guttural voice echoes from the shadows, so sudden that I freeze in place.

"Ah, the Chosen One."

The voice drips with mockery, every syllable slow and deliberate, as though savoring my discomfort. My muscles tense, ready to react, but I don't yet know where the threat is coming from.

"You've made it this far," the voice continues, now accompanied by a soft, cruel laugh. "But do you truly understand what you've claimed? What you've awakened?"

A figure emerges from the shadows, tall and impossibly thin. Their features are hidden beneath a mask, black as pitch, adorned with strange, intricate symbols that pulse faintly in the dim light. They wear a cloak that shifts unnaturally with the wind, and their presence seems to distort the space around them. The air chills, and I can feel the crown tightening on my head.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice steady despite the rising dread in my chest. My hand instinctively hovers near the shard still clenched in my palm, ready for whatever comes next.

The figure steps closer, and I can now see their eyes—pale, almost glowing, with a depth that seems to stretch into infinity. They smile, but it's a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. The mask they wear doesn't hide their malevolent gaze; it only enhances it.

"I am Azrath," they say, the name an ancient whisper on their lips. "And I am the first of the Seven Shadows."

"The Seven Shadows?" I echo, trying to make sense of the name. The crown pulses, as if reacting to the mention of these shadows, and a cold shiver crawls down my spine. "What do you want from me?"

Azrath tilts their head, as if amused by the question. "What I want? You have no idea how small that request is, Chosen One. I have watched your every step. I've felt the stirrings of the crown's power as you've taken it upon yourself. I know what you seek. You believe you will rule, don't you?"

I clench my jaw, refusing to answer, but Azrath's words land with the weight of truth.

"It is not the crown that rules," Azrath continues, their voice growing colder, more sinister. "It is those who control the crown. And that, my dear Chosen One, is something you will never do."

Suddenly, the air around us thickens, and the shadows shift like living creatures, curling toward me, pushing against my body. My hands tremble, but the crown whispers, urging me to fight back, to assert my power.

"You see," Azrath continues, their form shifting into something darker, more menacing. "I was once like you. I wore the crown. I believed its promise. But I was not strong enough. The crown consumed me, and I became a shadow of what I once was. And now, I am here to ensure that none of you survive to claim what is not yours."

As Azrath speaks, I realize the horrible truth: Azrath is not just a challenger. They are a warning, a reflection of what I might become if I continue down this path. The crown will devour me just as it devoured them. It is inevitable.

But that thought, that fear, is exactly what they want.

I square my shoulders, stepping forward, determination flaring in my chest. "I will not become like you," I declare, my voice strong and unwavering. "I will choose who I become."

Azrath's laugh echoes through the chamber, dark and hollow. "Choose? You think you have a choice? The crown's will is absolute. No one can escape it, not even you, Chosen One."

Before I can respond, the shadows around me spring to life, wrapping around my legs, pulling me toward the ground. I struggle against them, the crown burning as it responds to my fear. The shadows grow thicker, more suffocating, and for a moment, I wonder if Azrath is right—if this is my end.

But then, something inside me clicks. I refuse to let this be the end. The crown may be powerful, but it does not own me. I will wield it. It will not wield me.

With a shout, I channel the energy of the crown, pushing back against the darkness. The shadows writhe, but I can feel them weakening, as if my defiance is something they cannot comprehend. The crown thrums in response, its power surging through me, pushing the shadows back with a blinding light.

Azrath steps back, their mask flickering for a brief moment, revealing a faint hint of surprise.

"Impressive," they murmur, their voice a soft hiss. "But this is only the beginning. You may have defeated my shadows, Chosen One, but there are others. Darker, more dangerous than anything you have faced. The Seven Shadows will come for you, and they will stop at nothing to see you fall."

As Azrath retreats into the shadows, their form dissolving into the darkness, I realize the weight of their words. This is far from over. The true battle has only just begun.

I stand tall, breathing heavily, the crown still thrumming with power. "Let them come," I whisper, my resolve hardening. "I will not fall."

The trial is not just about survival—it's about becoming something more. Something that the crown cannot control.