Page 180 of Haunted Crowns
Her father’s voice. Her uncle’s. A creed burned into her bones.
She clenched her jaw.
Not like this.
She reached deep, calling to her blood, summoning the ancient force waiting within, until a spark ignited. A pulse surged through her chest. Strength returned, not freely given, but taken through sheer will.
Her hand shot up and clamped around his wrist, unyielding. The air split with a crack as lightning raced up her arm, searing and divine. Her eyes ignited, wild and celestial. Her voice rose like judgment.
"I am not Seraphina." The ground trembled, the air thickening with divine energy. Her voice thundered. "I am Eris Dragov. And you will bow!"
Her body blazed with celestial fire as ancient whispers stirred.
Stephan and Kareon stared, wide-eyed and frozen in awe. Eris was becoming something beyond flesh, beyond fate.
Kriponius’s grip weakened. For the first time, he hesitated. “What sorcery is this?” he rasped, eyes flickering. “What art thou doing to me?”
She was inside him now, breaking through the madness, and she was not alone. Two shadows stood with her: Raphael and Yori. They pushed together, driving deeper.
She plunged into his fury, his hatred, his hunger for vengeance, and shattered it until rage cracked and splintered into sorrow, loss, and love.
Kriponius staggered. His grip broke. Eris collapsed, her body striking the earth, breath ragged.
He dropped to his knees. His eyes—once void—faded, dissolving to gray. The color he had lost long ago. His lips parted as he looked to the sky, to the nothingness that awaited him.
“Seraphina…” he whispered. “Forgive me.”
His hands gripped the dirt, desperate, as if he could claw his way back through time.
"I have become a monster…all thou once didst fear." A tremor shook him. Then came one last plea: “Only thou canst save me.”
And for the first time in centuries, his tears fell.
Then a shadow rose behind him, tall and silent. He did not turn. He already knew.
Stephan stood with his blade raised, unyielding, like a divine executioner. Time paused as memory surged—the crypt, the book, Seraphina’s vision. Her prophecy was clear now. This was the moment. The blade in his grip, fate heavy on his spine. The wind stirred, carrying a whisper that shattered the stillness.
“Now.”
Stephan struck. Steel flashed, cutting through the dark with brutal finality.
The Dread King’s head fell. His reign ended by the will of the spirits, the fallen, and the one woman who had never stopped waiting to bring him home.
Kareon lay battered and bleeding, blood pounding in his ears. Stephan had done the impossible. Kriponius was dead.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, Kareon drew a ragged breath. His gaze shifted to Eris. She had not moved.
Kriponius’s head lay nearby. Eris stared at it, trembling, her lips parted in silence. Stephan stood before her, unmoving and resolute. He had done it. He had saved the love of his life. The weight of it crashed down upon them.
Slowly, Eris turned to him, and he to her. Tears fell, unchecked. Stephan dropped to his knees. For a moment, neither spoke. There were no words for what they had endured, only the presence of one another.
Stephan reached for her, fingers in her hair, pulling her close until their foreheads touched.
They shared a breath—then came the laugh. It was a fragile, broken thing, frayed by exhaustion and sharp with the relief of survival, that shattered something inside them and mended it in the same instant. They remained there, eyes locked, the silence between them louder than breath.
Her fingers traced his jaw, memorizing him, holding him like something sacred, something nearly lost. In that touch was a quiet promise shaped by all they had survived.
Then the air stirred with a presence, something ancient and divine. Behind them, Mournshadow Lake began to ripple, as if stirred by invisible hands. The surface stilled, then parted.
