The crown touched her skin—and the world exploded.
Not in fire. Not in shadow. In sound.
A thousand voices screamed inside Isabella's skull, not in agony but in triumph, their tones sharp as shattered glass, their whispers weaving like threads through her thoughts. She gasped, clawing at the air as chains tightened around her, holding her captive against the throne's living stone.
And then, it began.
The crown melted.
Black and molten, it seeped through her hair, her scalp, her veins, curling under her skin like rivers of darkness. Her blood turned cold, her heartbeat echoing like war drums inside her ribs.
She tried to scream. The sound never left her throat.
"You fight," the King said, its voice rippling through her bones, a sound too vast to belong to a single mouth. "Good. Strength is sweeter when broken."
The throne's chains pulsed, and with each pulse, memories tore from her mind—faces, voices, warmth. Alexander's voice was the first to fray, his name slipping like sand between her fingers.
"No—" Her lips formed the word, though her voice was only a rasp. "No… I won't forget him…"
The darkness chuckled.
> "Oh, little queen. You won't forget. You will beg me to let you forget."
---
The War Inside
Her mind split like glass under frost. Half of her clung to the truth—flashes of Alexander's eyes, the feel of his arms, the sound of his defiance in the hall. The other half bled shadows, drowning in whispers of dominion:
"They will kneel at your name."
"Power is not given. It is taken."
"You were never meant to serve—only to rule." And gods help her, some part of her believed it.
Because the visions came next—cities burning, seas boiling black, skies fractured with endless storms. She saw herself upon a throne of bone and fire, a crown of living shadows upon her head, her voice breaking worlds with a single word.
And Alexander…
He knelt before her in chains of light.
She choked on the image, shaking her head violently as tears carved burning tracks down her cheeks. "No. That's not me. That's not..."Not yet," the whispers purred.
---
The First Gate Feeds
The chains pulsed again, and a shock of power ripped through her body so violently her spine arched against the throne. Black fire spilled from her mouth as the shadows branded her skin in curling sigils older than the stars. Her scream fractured the silence, but it only fed the crown's hunger.
And somewhere beyond the void, a sound rumbled like mountains breaking.
Another gate.
Another chain snapping.
The Endless King leaned close, faceless and terrible, its voice a blade of silk. "When the seventh breaks, I will no longer need you. Until then… you will be mine."
Its hand—if it could be called a hand—rested lightly against her cheek. Cold seeped through her bones as its next words wrapped around her soul like a kiss of poison.
"And when your Alexander comes for you… I will let you kill him."