The sword still whispered in my sleep.

I didn’t know if it was memory or magic.

But ever since I took it… the crown felt heavier.

“You’re too quiet,” the High Priest said.

He stood at the far end of the sanctum, hands behind his back, like a man studying a fire he couldn’t extinguish.

“What did you see in the vault?”

I didn’t answer.

Not about the sword.

Not about the figure with the broken crown.

Because something told me…

He already knew.

[The Library of Silence]

They let me walk again.

Not alone — always with two guards, always with eyes.

But they let me inside the oldest chamber in the Sanctum.

Dust. Cold. Shelves of forgotten names.

“Search the Fourth Archive,” the priest had said. “If you want answers, start where history ends.”

It took hours.

But I found it.

A torn page. Burned edges. Hidden behind a false panel.

Written in ancient tongue, half-erased by time.

The Crownless.

Born of flame, enemies of order. A circle broken, scattered after the Great Silencing. Believed extinct.

Believed.

I stared at the drawing.

A jagged circle. A crown snapped in two. And a phrase:

“Before kings, there were the boundless. Before order, the oath.”

Something stirred in me.

A memory… not mine.

A voice, female, soft as ash.

They will call you chosen. But you were warned, Kael. We were here first.

I slammed the book shut.

Dust flew.

One of the guards stepped closer.

But I didn’t move.

I was shaking.

Not from fear.

From knowing—

There are others like me. Or worse.

[Elsewhere – Rooftop, Same Night]

Rain struck stone.

A figure knelt on the spire of an abandoned chapel.

The same cloaked one from the Vault. Now maskless.

A jagged burn ran across their jaw. A sigil glowed faintly in their hand — the broken crown.

They weren’t alone.

A shadow moved beside them.

“He took the sword,” the new voice said.

“And the crown still hasn’t consumed him.”

The masked one nodded.

“Then we were right. He’s not just the heir…”

They glanced toward the castle where Kael slept.

“…He’s the spark.”