The footsteps grow louder, echoing through the chamber like the slow beat of a drum. My grip tightens around the Silent Crown, its power thrumming against my skin, urging me to act. But I hesitate, unsure of the next move. Nyx's warning echoes in my mind—others are coming for the crown. They will stop at nothing to take it.
I turn slowly, scanning the dark corners of the room. The shadows shift unnaturally, the air thickening with tension. I can feel the presence of others closing in, though I can't see them. They're here, lurking just beyond the reach of the dim light.
The chamber feels smaller now, suffocating, as though the walls themselves are closing in. My breath quickens, and the crown's power swells inside me, filling the void left by my uncertainty. I don't know what they want, but I know one thing for certain: they won't get it without a fight.
A figure steps from the shadows. Tall, cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath the hood. The air around them seems to vibrate with a dark energy, a force as oppressive as the crown itself. They move toward me without a sound, their steps deliberate and unhurried.
"You've taken it," a voice says, low and hollow. It's not a question—it's a statement, a fact.
I raise my chin, trying to steady my nerves. "And who are you?"
The figure pauses a few paces away, the dim light casting long shadows over their form. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. Then they speak again, their voice like ice. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is who you've become. The crown has chosen you, and that means you're a threat. A threat to us all."
My heart races. The crown's power stirs in response, a dark hunger rising within me. The figure's words strike a chord deep inside, something I don't fully understand yet, but I feel it—this is bigger than me. Bigger than anyone.
"I won't let you take it," I growl, stepping back, keeping the crown firmly in my grasp.
The figure chuckles, a sound devoid of warmth. "You think you have a choice? The crown calls to us all. We were chosen long before you ever set foot in this castle. You were just the next in line."
I don't know who "we" are, but the figure's words set my teeth on edge. Before I can respond, the chamber seems to darken further, as though the very air is thickening with malice.
"Step aside, Soren," another voice commands, this one sharp and commanding. A second figure emerges from the shadows, dressed in blood-red armor, their face obscured by a helmet adorned with strange markings. The air around them crackles with power, a stark contrast to the suffocating calm that preceded them.
I narrow my eyes, my hand tightening around the crown. "Who are you?"
The armored figure's laugh is cruel and hollow. "We are the ones who will end this charade. The crown belongs to us. And you, Soren, are nothing more than a temporary obstacle."
The ground beneath me shifts, the dark energy in the room intensifying. The first figure takes a step closer, their hands raised, as though preparing to strike. My instincts flare. They're not here for negotiations—they're here to take the crown by force.
Without thinking, I draw my broken sword, its jagged edges gleaming in the dim light. It's not much, but it's all I have. I take a step back, keeping the crown close to my chest. The world seems to slow as the figures advance, their intentions clear.
"You'll never have it," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I won't let you."
The figure in red armor grins beneath their helmet, the cruel smile audible even without seeing it. "You think you have a choice, Soren? You think the crown listens to your petty desires?"
I brace myself, ready to fight for what little I have left, but the second figure raises their hand, and the air around me trembles. The sword in my hand feels like a feather, useless against the power they command.
Suddenly, there's a loud, resounding crack. The floor beneath us splits open, sending a shockwave through the chamber. The figure in red armor stumbles, but the other figure— the one in black—moves with unnatural speed, a blur in the dim light. They don't hesitate.
I barely manage to raise my sword before they're upon me, their hands grabbing my arm, pulling me toward the pedestal. The crown hums in my grip, reacting to the threat, and for a moment, I can feel its power surging, overwhelming my senses.
A flash of silver. The armored figure strikes.
But before the blow lands, a new presence fills the room. A pulse of energy so strong that it knocks both figures off their feet. The black figure releases me, and I stagger back, disoriented. The crown's hum turns to a deafening roar.
A third figure emerges from the shadows. Taller than the others, their silhouette bathed in an unnatural light. The light flickers around them, like an aura, as if they belong to this place—this cursed castle.
The newcomers—their enemies—look up, their faces filled with surprise and fear. The black figure bows their head in acknowledgment, as though this new presence has authority over them.
The figure steps into the light, revealing a face that I can't quite recognize. Their eyes glow with an eerie, unearthly light. They speak without moving their lips, their voice echoing inside my mind. "Soren... you have no idea what you've just unleashed."