Chapter 71 The Crown’s Price
I shattered the Hollow Crown. I rewrote fate. I had made life better.
Or so I thought.
Part of the unused crown had burst into stars, dramatic and poetic, like a finale in a play written by a bard with a flair for existential dread. The veil had stabilized. The world had breathed. Everyone clapped. Gerald moonwalked. Quacknor the duck declared war on a puddle. It was a whole thing.
But one shard remained.
I didn’t notice it at first. It nestled quietly in my flame, pulsing like a secret I hadn’t agreed to keep. It didn’t scream. It whispered. And I, being the ever-wise flame-wielder with a penchant for ignoring red flags, listened.
The first sign was subtle.
I forgot the name of the silver tree in the Vale. You know, the one that glows during moonrise and smells like regret and lavender. I called it “that shiny stick thing.” Thessa nearly choked on her tea.
Then I forgot the way Narrin used to smile. That crooked, half-smirk that said “I know something you don’t, and it’s probably about your socks.” Gone. Just... gone.
Then the moment I first rewrote the prophecy. Blank. Like someone had edited my memories with a butter knife.
Milo noticed.
“You’re slipping,” he said gently, like I was a teacup with a crack and not a walking paradox with a crown-shaped trauma.
I blinked. “I’m fine.”
Spoiler: I wasn’t.
The Watch gathered. Because when things go wrong, we do what we always do—form a circle, look concerned, and throw magic at the problem until someone cries or explodes.
Thessa brought memory stones. She handed me one like it was a bandage for my brain.
“Try this,” she said. “It’s from the day you punched fate in the face.”
I held it. Nothing.
Yuel recited old verses, his voice calm and melodic. “The flame remembers what the mind forgets.”
I stared at him. “That’s beautiful. Also useless.”
Kael summoned winds that carried whispers of the past. They swirled around me, murmuring things like “Mo, you’re late” and “Mo, stop setting things on fire.” Comforting, but not helpful.
I listened.
But the memories didn’t return.
Instead, I saw futures that never happened.
Aeloria is ruled by fire. Milo lost to Shadow. My own face, crowned and cold, eyes like dying stars.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s mildly horrifying.”
Zeke leaned in. “Define ‘mildly.’”
Gerald bleated ominously. Quacknor hissed and threw a pebble at the wind.
Milo was concerned about me.
Ellira, being the responsible one (and the only one who still believed I could be fixed without duct tape and denial), travelled to the Archive of Echoes.
I woke up in the Watchtower surrounded by people who looked at me like I was a beloved pet that had suddenly started speaking Latin and biting furniture.
Thessa was the first to speak. “Okay, so... she doesn’t remember us. That’s fine. Totally fine. We’ll just reintroduce ourselves. Like a really awkward family reunion.”
Lira waved. “Hi, Mo. I’m Lira. I bake things and occasionally throw knives. Not at the same time.”
Kael leaned against a pillar. “I’m Kael. I summon winds and sarcasm. Mostly sarcasm.”
Yuel bowed slightly. “I’m Yuel. I recite ancient verses and judge people silently.”
Zeke held up a scroll. “I’m Zeke. I have a wicked range of snacks, and I document everything. Including this moment. Say hi.”
I blinked. “Hi?”
He scribbled furiously. “Perfect. That’s going in the chapter titled ‘Mo Forgets Everything and We All Panic.’”
Milo stepped forward. “You’re Mo Emberleaf. Flameborn. Crownborn. You shattered the Hollow Crown and rewrote reality. And now you’ve forgotten all of it. Including us. Also I am your brother.”
I looked at Milo.
Just stared at me back like I was a ghost wearing his favorite sweater.
“Brother?” I ask
As time went on, the worse I became... everything was weird.
I remembered how to walk, talk, and set things on fire. So, you know, the essentials. But everything else? Gone. My past was a foggy soup of half-formed thoughts and misplaced emotions.
Thessa tried memory stones again.
“This one’s from the time you saved my life,” she said, handing me a glowing crystal.
I touched it.
Nothing.
“Well,” she muttered, “that’s rude.”
Lira baked memory muffins. Don’t ask. They were enchanted with nostalgia and cinnamon.
I ate one.
Still nothing.
Kael summoned a wind that whispered my name.
It sounded like someone trying to pronounce “moist” while sneezing.
Yuel recited verses that made everyone else cry.
I felt... itchy.
Zeke drew a comic strip of our adventures.
I laughed.
Then asked, “Who’s the goat?”
Gerald bleated indignantly.
Quacknor threw a spoon at me.
Ellira sent word that her travels were progressing, but the Archive of Echoes was a hard journey.
I asked the people with me, “Who is Ellira? What is the Archive of Echoes?”
A place where memory and magic intertwine like drunk dancers at a royal ball.
“Sounds risky,” I said.
“But it might help you recover what the shard took,” Milo replies sadly.
“We could look at travelling through the veil?” Lira said after another day and night of me not knowing who they were.
They all agreed that they had to try something. Ellira was taking too long to return.
The Veil was... unsettling.
It shimmered like a dream trying to remember itself. Colors bled into each other. Time hiccupped. Gerald followed us, wearing a cape. Quacknor rode his back like a war general.
Milo held my hand.
“Do you remember anything?” he asked.
I paused.
“There’s a feeling. Like I’ve lost something important. Like I’m chasing shadows.”
He nodded. “That’s how I felt when you forgot me.”
Ouch.
We walked deeper.
The Veil shifted.
Suddenly, I was standing in a memory.
Narrin smiled at me.
I gasped. “I know him!”
Milo grinned. “Yes! That’s Narrin!”
Then the memory twisted.
Narrin’s face melted into fire.
The silver tree burned.
The Hollow Crown hovered above me.
And I was crowned.
Cold.
Alone.