The journey back through the mountains was slower, heavier. Though the wraiths of Haldrith were gone, the Crown of Dawn pulsed faintly in Isolde's hands, its glow refusing to fade. It was as if the relic itself resisted being hidden, its light too fierce to be contained.
When at last they reached the stronghold of the Keepers, the mountain fires roared higher, sensing the crown's return. The order gathered in solemn silence as Kael and Isolde stepped into the courtyard.
Lady Elira approached, her silver braid gleaming in the firelight. Her eyes locked on the crown, and for the first time her stern mask faltered. Awe flickered across her face.
"So it is true," she whispered. "The Crown of Dawn has not been seen since the binding of the Shadow King. To bear it is to bear the first oath itself."
Isolde bowed her head, but her voice trembled. "It is not just a relic. When I touched it, I felt… more than myself. I heard their voices—the first warriors. They bound their souls to this crown. And now their fire burns through me."
A murmur rippled through the Keepers. Some knelt in reverence, others stepped back in fear.
Kael spoke firmly, his hand resting on the Moonsilver Sword. "With the crown and the blade together, we are closer to binding him again. But Varrow hunts us. He already tried to seize it at Haldrith."
Elira's expression hardened. "Then the time grows shorter still. If the adviser has touched the Hollow, he will not relent until every relic lies in his grasp. The crown must be guarded. Its power is both weapon… and curse."
---
That night, the Keepers lit great fires in the stronghold, their chants echoing through the stone halls. Yet peace did not last.
Isolde awoke in the dark of midnight, the crown glowing beside her bed. The light filled her vision until the room itself dissolved. She stood in a field of ash, the sky torn open by fire. Chains rattled beneath her feet, each link cracking one by one.
And from the smoke, a figure rose—vast, crowned in black flame, his eyes twin abysses. The Shadow King.
"The oath burns you, child," his voice thundered, rattling her bones. "Every relic you claim ties you closer to me. Do you not see? They are not weapons against me—they are keys to my freedom. Take them all, and you will place the crown upon my brow yourself."
Isolde staggered, clutching her chest. "No… I'll never serve you!"
The king's laughter shook the ash fields. "You already do."
With a scream, she jolted awake. Kael was beside her in an instant, his arms steadying her trembling form. The crown lay on the floor, its glow fierce and unyielding.
Kael's jaw tightened. "It's speaking to you, isn't it? Just like the Hollow."
Tears burned her eyes. "It isn't just speaking—it's binding. Kael, what if he's right? What if every relic brings us closer to freeing him?"
He lifted her chin, his voice steady as steel. "Then we'll make sure it's us—not him—who wields them. Whatever the cost."
---
But even as he spoke, a horn sounded at the mountain gates. Shouts rose in the courtyard. The Keepers rushed to arms, torches blazing.
Kael drew the Moonsilver Sword, its runes flaring. "Varrow's hunters."
The gates shuddered beneath a blow, shadows writhing against the ancient wards.
Lady Elira's voice rang out, fierce and unyielding. "Defend the flame! Defend the crown!"
The stronghold of the Keepers would face its first siege in centuries—and Varrow's shadow was at their door.
---