Chapter 70 Crowned in Flame
The Hollow Crown hovered above me like a judgmental aunt at a family reunion—glittering, pulsing, and absolutely full of unsolicited opinions. It radiated broken futures and fractured truths, like it had just binge-watched every bad decision I’d ever made and was ready to comment.
The Watch stood frozen. Not out of reverence, mind you. More like that awkward moment when someone drops a cake and everyone’s unsure whether to help or just pretend it didn’t happen.
Milo stepped forward, his face doing that concerned puppy thing. “You don’t have to do this.”
I turned to him, flame steady, voice steadier. “I do. Not to rule. To rewrite.”
Behind him, Thessa muttered, “Well, that’s dramatic.”
Lira elbowed her. “Let her have her moment. She’s literally about to crown herself with a sentient piece of cosmic trauma.”
Ellira, ever the voice of reason, added, “Technically, it’s not sentient. Just cursed.”
Kael snorted. “That’s worse.”
Yuel, arms crossed, looked unimpressed. “I give it five minutes before something explodes.”
Zeke raised a brow. “Ten, if Gerald doesn’t get involved.”
Cue Gerald, the goat, who chose that exact moment to leap onto a nearby pillar and bleat like he’d just discovered opera. Quacknor, the duck, hissed from the shadows like a feathered gremlin. The tension was palpable. And ridiculous.
I raised my hand.
The Crown descended.
And the world held its breath.
Was I making the right decision? I didn’t know, but I knew that it was better for me with the crown than that of the void or Calyx
The moment the Hollow Crown touched my brow, the veil surged like it had just been caffeinated. Magic rippled across realms. The Echoing Vale reignited. The Flameborn Rift pulsed with memory. Somewhere, a bard probably started composing a ballad titled “Mo and the Crown of Existential Crisis.”
But I didn’t vanish.
I transformed.
My flame deepened—no longer just Emberleaf, but Crownborn. Which sounded cool until Kael whispered, “Crownborn sounds like a perfume.”
Thessa nodded. “Or a really pretentious wine.”
I ignored them. Mostly.
I saw every timeline. Every echo. Every choice. It was like binge-watching the multiverse on fast-forward, except I was the protagonist in every version and wow, some of those choices were questionable.
And I chose.
I spoke a single line.
“Let all futures breathe.”
The Hollow Crown shattered.
Its shards became stars.
The veil stabilized.
The storm dispersed.
And the Watch bowed—not to a queen, but to a guide.
Talon whispered, “That was... actually kind of epic.”
Zeke clapped slowly. “Eight out of ten. There were no explosions or fire works so you lost points. Maybe take the crown off and do it again.”
Yuel rolled her eyes. “You’re all insufferable.”
Gerald bleated in agreement, then tried to eat a star shard. Quacknor lunged at him, wings flapping like he was auditioning for a horror film. Chaos resumed.
I stood among my friends.
Talon, Zeke, Yuel, Thessa, Kael, Lira, Ellira.
And Milo, who took my hand like he hadn’t just watched me rewrite reality.
“You rewrote everything, again,” he said, voice soft.
I smiled. “Yeah.”
Thessa crossed her arms. “So... what now? Do we get medals? A secret handshake? OOooh, I know matching crowns!”
Lira grinned. “Ooh, can we have a theme song?”
Ellira sighed. “You people are exhausting.”
As I looked around, I noticed that everything looked brighter, more colours, more life, but around every object there were thin black lines like something was almost highlighting the landscape and the people within. As I continued to view the world through this new lens, a scroll arrived, carried by a very tired-looking pigeon wearing a crown. I unrolled it.
From Their Majesties, Queen and King of Aeloria:
Dearest Mo,
Congratulations on your... unconventional coronation. We are thrilled (read: mildly alarmed) by your decision to shatter the Hollow Crown and rewrite the fabric of reality. Truly, a bold move. We do hope this doesn’t result in any further destabilization of the Veil, as we’ve just finished redecorating the palace and would prefer not to have it swallowed by temporal anomalies.
Do let us know if you plan to crown yourself with any other ancient artifacts. We’d like to schedule a vacation around it.
Warmest regards (and a touch of dread),
Queen & King of Aeloria
Thessa snorted. “That’s the most passive-aggressive royal note I’ve ever read.”
Kael nodded. “They’re basically saying ‘don’t break the universe again, thanks.’”
Lira giggled. “I love them.”
Ellira looked thoughtful. “We should send them a fruit basket.”
Yuel raised a brow. “With a duck in it?”
Quacknor hissed.
We walked through the Vale, the air shimmering with possibility. Every step felt like rewriting a page of a book that had been locked for centuries.
Milo leaned close. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I think so. It’s weird. I feel... everything. But also nothing. Like I’m holding the threads of fate and they’re just spaghetti.”
He blinked. “That’s... poetic?”
“Hungry,” I replied.
Gerald trotted past, dragging a cart full of apples. Quacknor rode atop it like a warlord.
Thessa looked at me. “So, you’re not a queen?”
“Nope.”
“But you have queen powers?”
“Technically.”
Kael grinned. “So you’re like a freelance monarch.”
Lira clapped. “A reality consultant!”
Ellira groaned. “Please stop.”
Zeke pointed at the sky. “Is that a new constellation?”
I looked up. The shards of the Hollow Crown had become stars, each one pulsing with a different choice, a different future.
“Yeah,” I said. “That one’s the timeline where Gerald becomes king.”
Everyone stared.
Gerald bleated regally.
Quacknor bowed.
There was a special star up there now just for Narrin. Whilst I didn’t tell the others, I saw his many roads, and at the end of each one, he chose to sacrifice himself for one of us in one way or another. Whilst it was sad that he was always destined to die in some form, he was fated to do so. We were all still struggling with his death, and each of us agreed that we needed to move forward.
We returned to the Watchtower, not as rulers, but as witnesses. The world was breathing again. Futures unfolded like petals, each one vibrant, chaotic, and full of potential.
I stood at the edge of the tower, flame flickering gently.