Shadows of the crown

Chapter 7: The Mark of the crown

Days faded into an indistinct haze, but what lingered in Evans's mind was the shadow dog's attack, hovering over him like a dark cloud. While people of Astera gradually began to get back into the daily grind once again, the kingdom itself awaited with bated breath the occurrence of something, anything.

Evans felt it, too. The skies had cleared-the streets were once again filled with caution and hope-but he knew the curse of the crown hadn't been truly broken. Not yet.

Since the night of the battle, Evans had been avoiding the council chambers, much more content to wander the empty halls of the castle. His heart was heavy, for though his father's reign had been brought to a close, the weight of the curse clung to him like a shadow. Every mirror, every dark corner seemed to mock him with the knowledge that the crown had not been destroyed, only changed.

And thus, late one night, unable to sleep, Evans found himself standing before the mirror in his chambers, peering into the reflection in desperation, searching for any sign that the darkness had returned. For a moment, everything seemed normal. But then he saw it—just a flicker, a momentary glimpse of something that made his heart race.

His eyes—his own eyes—were not entirely his.

They swirled with shadow.

Evans stumbled backward, his breath catching in his throat. He blinked hard to clear his vision, and the second time he opened his eyes, the reflection stared back normal. His heart racing in his chest, he leaned closer to the mirror, searching for any residual smidgen of darkness.

Nothing. Just his worn, weary face staring back at him.

But he had seen it. He knew it, was certain. The shadow, the same darkness that had eaten his father alive, was inside him, now. It hadn't been defeated. It had simply found a new host.

Evans's fists were clenched as his mind somersaulted. How could this be happening? He had destroyed the creature, banished the shadows that had plagued his kingdom for so long. But the crown. it had always been more than just a cursed object. The creature had said it was a doorway, a conduit for power far beyond their world. And now that doorway was inside him.

His thoughts broke to the soft knock at the door. Evans tensed, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.

"Your Majesty?" The voice was unmistakable to Evans; it was Jorin. Careful, as if he knew Evans's mind was not at ease. "May I come in?"

Evans hesitated and nodded though well aware Jorin wouldn't be able to see him. "Enter, " he said with a very straight voice; the turmoil that was climbing in his chest didn't find any reflection in his voice. The door creaked open, and Jorin stepped into the room. With one swift look around, his eyes fell upon Evans standing before the mirror, pale and tense. "I have been looking for you. You've missed several council meetings, Evans. The nobles begin to show signs of restlessness.

Evans turned away from the mirror as the weight of his responsibilities finally fell hard on him. He hadn't given much thought, in the days since the battle, either to the council or to the kingdom. He had been mainly concerned with the feeling of impending doom growing inside him. "The council will have to wait," he said quietly, strained. "There's something far more important we need to deal with."

Jorin frowned, his feet shifting closer. "What is it? Has something happened?"

Evans's eyes refocused on the mirror, where his reflection stared back with an accusing hauntedness. "The crown," he breathed. "It's still here, Jorin. I can feel it. And I think. I think it's inside me."

Jorin stiffened, eyes wide in alarm. "What are you talking about? The crown's power was destroyed. You defeated the creature, Evans. The curse is broken."

"No," Evans said, shaking his head. "It's not. The creature was only the beginning. The crown-it's connected with something so much darker, something that has been waiting for centuries. And now that it's gone, that darkness has found a new host." He stopped, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Me."

Jorin's face paled, but he didn't back away. He stepped closer, his voice firm. "We'll find a way to stop it. Whatever this is, we'll deal with it. You're not alone in this, Evans."

Evans wanted to believe him, wanted to cleave to the hope that somehow, someway they could finally beat the curse. But deep inside, he knew it wasn't that simple. The shadows had been in his family for generations. They'd corrupted his father, twisted him into something unrecognizable. And now, they were coming for him.

"What if it's too late?" Evans asked, his voice low with quiet desperation. "What if the darkness has already taken root inside me? What if I'm already lost?"

Jorin's grip on his sword tightened, but his gaze did not waver. "You are stronger than that, Evans. You fought the shadows and won. You can fight this too. But you have to let us help you. You have to trust us."

Evans regarded his friend, the weight of his words sinking into his gut. He wanted to trust Jorin, wanted to believe he could fight whatever was growing inside him. But the truth was, he wasn't sure he could. The darkness had already begun oozing into his soul, and with each day, it was getting stronger.

Before Evans could answer, the room was suddenly washed over with a chill. The temperature rapidly fell, while a faint whispering sound filled the air, both from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

Evans and Jorin both froze, their eyes going around the room.

The whispers rose in volume, as though someone spoke words that were indistinguishable but full of malice. Shadows in corners of the room almost seemed to writhe and twist in unnatural life.

Evans's heart was racing. "Do you hear that?"

Jorin nodded, his face white. "I hear it."

The whispers grew louder, filling Evans's mind with a sense of dread so deep it almost dropped him to his knees. He clutched at his head, trying to shut out the voices, but they merely grew louder, more insistent.

"Evans," Jorin said, his voice tight with fear. "We need to leave. Now."

But Evans couldn't budge. The shadows, it appeared to him, had come alive, imploring him to come nearer. His vision blurred, and all of a sudden he was no longer standing within his chamber but elsewhere-cold and dark, in a place surrounded by figures shrouded in shadow. The eyes of these figures glowed from within with that same eerie light as the creature he'd fought against in the throne room.

"Evans," the voices chanted in unison. "You are ours now."

Abruptly Evans opened his eyes. He was cold with sweat. The room was rigid, unmoving; no longer writhing shadows. Yet the whispers continued, very soft and far away.

Jorin grasped his arm in a tight, urgent grip. "Evans! Are you alright?

Evans shook his head as his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath. "It's not over," he muttered, his voice shaking. "The crown. it's still here. And it's coming for me."

Jorin's face hardened. "Then we'll fight together. We will find a way to destroy it once and for all."

But in his friend's eyes, Evans couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late. The shadows had marked him, and no matter how hard he tried to fight, he knew the darkness would never let him go.

The crown's legacy was in him now.

And it would never be silenced.