Blood and ash still marred my skin and clothes, but my gaze held a quiet, patient determination which hadn’t been there before.
Ryker came to stand behind me in silent support, placing his hand on the small of my back.
We didn’t need words right now.
We would stand by each other, no matter what other battles we had to face.
My palms shook against the steel which carried so many responsibilities.
Whether I was ready to carry them all or not, they no longer settled like a dark cloud on my shoulders.
I knew why I had to fight.
Not because of duty or expectations.
Because I wanted a different Malhaven.
One devoid of senseless violence and secrets traded in the shadows for which the innocent paid.
The time of man’s greed and lust leading this world would be over.
I raised the crown above my head, a gulp trapped in my throat.
Like before, I closed my eyes as I lowered the steel onto my head.
I had to believe I was worthy of the crown before anyone else–and for all the lives I would save, I was.
Better than Beren.
More self-sacrificing than Silas.
Heroic instead of a heartless heir.
Ryker gasped before I dared look at myself.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. My heart swelled as I saw myself in the mirror, same as a minute ago.
Only now, my reflection was illuminated by the crown.
The symbols blazed to life in one powerful line, from the top of my head up the highest spire.
The light wasn’t perfectly blue or perfectly silver.
It was trapped somewhere between them, with small glimmers of purple at the edges.
The Protectorate crown had not only accepted me. It had molded its power to my very essence.
With it, I could command the Protectorate army.
I could take back what was stolen.
The Protectorate civilians might have been lied into forsaking me.
But I didn’t forsake them.
“I need your help,” I said.
Out loud, so the entire world could hear this.
