She wasn’t in full regalia today—no crown, no mantle—but her presence filled the chamber like smoke. She held something wrapped in velvet, the weight of it palpable.
“It’s time,” she said gently.
I stood, throat tightening.
“Time for what?”
“For the world to see you for what you are.”
She approached, slowly, reverently. Then, with a single breath, she unwrapped the object in her hands.
A crown.
But not of iron or gold.
This one was forged of light — faintly glowing, with celestial symbols carved into silver filigree. The magic hummed in the air, alive. Waiting.
“No one has worn this since the fall of the last Gatekeeper,” the Queen whispered. “Only one with the blood of both Heaven and the Abyss can bear it.”
My hands trembled.
She lifted it above my head, her eyes searching mine. And for a moment, I saw not a queen — but a woman. A mother. One with sorrow carved deep behind her beauty.
“I wish it didn’t have to be you,” she said. “But it was always going to be.”
The moment the crown touched my head, the magicsang.
Not a melody, but aknowing— a flood of memories, bloodlines, destinies unraveling like thread. It burned, and it calmed. It filled the void I never knew I carried.
When I opened my eyes, I felt it.
Power.
The Queen stepped back and smiled, but there was no joy in it.
Only regret.
“You were never meant to be a weapon,” she whispered. “But I fear that’s what the world will make of you.”
I didn’t know what to say. My hands clenched at my sides, the weight of the crown sinking deeper than gold ever could.
I was no longer just Seori.
I was something ancient.
Somethingdangerous.
And now, the world would know it.
--------???--------
The throne room had been transformed into something older than time itself — its obsidian floors now etched with glowing sigils, the air heavy with ancient incense, thick with divine and infernal power. At the far end stood the platform where the ritual would begin, floating slightly above the ground, suspended by raw energy. The sky above was no longer sky, but a swirling, bloodred void.
The Demon King waited for me.
Clad in ceremonial armor etched with angelic runes and demonic bone, he was both regal and monstrous — a relic of every war ever waged. When I entered, his eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.
“You look just like her,” he murmured, reaching out. “But you burn likeme.”
