Chapter 25 – The Weight of the Crown
The adrenaline of the battle had long faded, leaving behind only the ache.
Three days had passed since the Siege.
Uzo sat on the edge of the leviathan-bone throne not sitting in it, just on the edge. It felt too big for him. Too presumptive.
His splinted arm throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain that synced with his heartbeat. He tried to peel a piece of dried fruit with one hand, fumbled, and dropped it.
A massive hand picked it up.
Kaelen stood there. The Void Knight was no longer wearing his furs. He wore plates of the newly forged Dead Iron, black and matte, absorbing the firelight.
He handed the fruit back to Uzo gently.
"You struggle," Kaelen rumbled. His voice was still deep, but the harsh, grinding quality was gone. The Void had smoothed his edges.
"It's just an arm," Uzo muttered, taking the fruit. "It'll heal."
"The bone will knit," Kaelen said. "But the cost of the Unword... that does not heal."
Kaelen pointed to Uzo's chest.
Even through his shirt, the Wax Seal was visible as a faint, gray glow. It was pulsing.
"My people... they fear you," Kaelen said.
Uzo looked up, surprised. "I thought they respected me. They bow."
"They bow to the storm," Kaelen corrected. "They bow to the avalanche. That is not love. That is fear."
The Warlord leaned closer.
"You are not a Warlord, Uzo. You are an anomaly. You broke the laws of the world to save us. Now... you must learn to live in the wreckage."
Later that evening, Uzo found Ronnie near the forge.
She wasn't working. She was watching Vara (the new Hushed scout) practice moving.
Vara moved across the stone floor without a sound. No scuff of boots. No rustle of cloth. It was unnatural.
Ronnie looked tired. The gray vein of the Oath on her hand was dormant, but her eyes were heavy.
"Hey," Uzo said.
Ronnie jumped. She hadn't heard him approach.
"You're getting quiet too," she said, forcing a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.
"We need to talk about the march," Uzo said. "The pass is clear. We could leave for the House of Myth in two days."
Ronnie shook her head. "We can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you can't," Ronnie said, her voice sharpening. She pointed at his arm. "You can barely dress yourself.
And every time you use that 'Void' magic to make a weapon or bless a soldier, you look like you're going to pass out."
She walked over to him, her expression softening into concern.
"Uzo, look at your hands."
Uzo looked. His fingertips were turning gray. Not dirty gray. The color was leeching out of his skin.
"The Void is eating you," Ronnie whispered. "You're pouring too much into the Lexicon, and you have no idea how to refill it. If we march into the House of Myth like this... you won't survive the front door."
Uzo clenched his good fist. "We can't stay here forever. Lazarus knows we're alive. He erased the records, which means he's planning something worse."
"That's exactly why we wait," Ronnie insisted. "We stay. We heal. You let that bone knit. You let me train these Barbarians on how to fight like a unit, not a mob."
She poked him in the chest, right over the Wax Seal.
"And you figure out how to control that thing before it turns you into a statue."
Uzo looked around the cavern.
He saw the Barbarians polishing their Dead Iron weapons. He saw the children watching him from the shadows with wide, terrified eyes.
He saw the Crow, perched high above, waiting.
He realized he had been rushing. He was so desperate to find his name that he was burning his body to fuel the search.
"You're right," Uzo admitted quietly.
Ronnie let out a breath. "I usually am."
"How long?" Uzo asked.
"A month," Ronnie said. "Give me a month. I'll turn these Mutes into an army. And you... you just focus on not disappearing."
[Two Weeks Later]
The Silent Hold had changed.
It wasn't just a cave anymore. It was a fortress.
Walls of black ice blocked the wind at the entrance. The forge burned day and night, turning the mountain's scrap into an arsenal of Dead Iron.
Uzo stood in the center of the training ring.
His sling was gone, though his arm was still wrapped heavily and stiff.
Opposite him stood Vara, the Hushed Scout.
She held two daggers of Dead Iron.
"Again," Uzo commanded.
Vara vanished.
She didn't teleport. She just moved so silently and quickly that the brain struggled to track her.
She appeared behind Uzo, blade at his throat.
Uzo didn't spin. He didn't duck.
He closed his eyes.
He didn't listen for sound. He listened for the absence of sound.
The Wax Seal hummed.
He felt a pocket of silence to his left.
Uzo drove his elbow back.
THUD.
Vara grunted, stumbling back, the breath knocked out of her.
She grinned, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Getting better, Lord."
"Don't call me Lord," Uzo said, offering her a hand. "I'm just the guy who broke the world."
Kaelen watched from the sidelines, nodding slowly.
"He learns," the Knight grunted to Ronnie.
"He's stubborn," Ronnie replied, crossing her arms. "But he's getting stronger. The gray on his hands hasn't spread."
"Good," Kaelen said. "Because the winter is ending. And the birds... they bring news."
He pointed to the entrance.
The Crow flew in, carrying something in its beak.
It wasn't a message scroll.
It was a finger. A severed human finger, wearing a ring with the sigil of a Question Mark.
The House of Mystery.
The Crow dropped the finger at Uzo's feet.
Uzo picked it up. He recognized the ring.
"Silas," Uzo whispered. "The Necromancer."
"That's not a Necromancer ring," Ronnie said, confused. "That's the House of Mystery."
"Silas had many rings," Uzo said darkly. "He played all sides."
He looked at the severed finger. It was a warning. Or an invitation.
"Someone found him. Someone knows we were there."
Uzo looked at Ronnie. Then at Kaelen.
The month of rest was over.
"Pack the gear," Uzo said, his voice cold. "We march at dawn."