The Crimson Crown

The air grew heavier with each step we took, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows against the damp, cold walls of the dungeon. The faint sounds of dripping water echoed through the oppressive silence, broken only by the occasional cough or murmur from the cells we passed.

Dark, dingy bars lined the corridor, each cell housing a shadowed figure. Some prisoners sat in silence, their faces obscured by the gloom, while others leaned against the bars, their sunken eyes fixed on us. A few murmured in low, mocking tones, their voices curling through the air like smoke. Clara kept her gaze straight ahead, her grip on her bucket white-knuckled, her face pale but set. I mirrored her composure, though my heart pounded furiously in my chest.

“Two little mice,” one prisoner hissed, his voice gravelly and coarse. “What’re you doing down here, hmm? Looking for cheese?”

Another laughed, a low, menacing sound that sent a chill down my spine. I tightened my grip on the bucket, forcing myself to keep moving, my head held high despite the tremor in my legs. Clara’s posture was equally rigid, her pace quickening as we passed cell after cell, the stench of unwashed bodies and decay growing stronger with each step.

Finally, at the end of the corridor, I saw him.

Dorian.

He was slumped against the far wall of the cell, his body limp and battered, his clothes torn and stained with blood and dirt. Heavy chains bound his wrists and ankles, their thick iron links glinting faintly in the dim light. His head lolled forward, his once-proud features obscured by a curtain of matted hair. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, the sight of him stealing the air from my lungs.

“Dorian,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

He didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell faintly, the only sign that he was still alive. I stepped closer, gripping the bars tightly as I peered inside, my eyes searching for any sign of recognition, any hint that he knew I was there. But his head remained bowed, his body unmoving except for the shallow rhythm of his breathing.

“Liliana...” Clara’s voice was low, urgent, as she placed a hand on my arm. “We need to be quick. If the guards find us—”

“I know,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. I glanced at her, my expression softening as I added, “I know. But I can’t leave him like this.”

Clara hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. “What’s the plan?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her posture.

I turned back to the cell, my hands gripping the bars so tightly it hurt. “We’re getting him out,” I said firmly, my resolve hardening with each passing second. “No matter what it takes.”

My hands trembled as I fumbled with the lock, the cold metal biting into my fingers. It was rusted and worn but sturdy, and no matter how hard I tugged or twisted, it refused to budge. My breath quickened, panic clawing at the edges of my mind. I glanced around desperately, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of a key—something, anything—that could free Dorian from this cage.

“Where is it?” I muttered under my breath, my frustration mounting as I searched the area around the cell. The walls were bare, the floor scattered with dirt and grime but devoid of anything useful. The guards must have taken the key with them. My chest tightened with a mix of desperation and fury as I returned to the bars, gripping them tightly.

Dorian remained motionless, his head still bowed, his chains rattling faintly as he shifted slightly. The sight of him like this—beaten, broken, and so close yet still out of reach—made something inside me snap. My breath hitched as a wave of anger surged through me, burning hot and fierce. This wasn’t fair. I had come so far, risked so much, and now I was stopped by a single, stupid lock?

I slammed my fist against the bars, the metal reverberating with a sharp clang. “No,” I hissed, my voice shaking. “I won’t let it end like this.”

The anger built, hot and overwhelming, filling my chest and spreading to my limbs. My hands clenched into fists, the frustration pouring out of me as I struck the lock again. This time, something shifted within me—a familiar warmth, a power I hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages. The Wind of Summer stirred, its strength filling my muscles, surging through me like wildfire.

Without thinking, I raised my hand again, this time channeling the force into my strike. The warmth spread to my fingertips, my body thrumming with energy as I brought my fist down on the lock. The metal groaned under the force, the rusty mechanism snapping with a sharp crack as the Wind of Summer poured through me.

I stumbled back, my chest heaving as the broken lock fell to the floor with a dull thud. The bars swung open with a faint creak, the heavy iron door hanging ajar. For a moment, I simply stared, my heart pounding in my chest, the power of Summer still humming faintly in my veins.

“Liliana,” Clara’s voice broke through my haze, filled with equal parts awe and fear. “How... how did you...?”

I turned to her, my breath steadying as I released the last remnants of Summer’s energy. “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly, my voice trembling slightly. “But it worked.”

Without waiting for her response, I stepped into the cell, the weight of the moment pressing down on me as I knelt beside Dorian. His shallow breathing was steady but weak, his body slumped and unmoving. Gently, I reached out, brushing a strand of matted hair from his face.

“Dorian,” I whispered, my voice soft but firm. “It’s me. I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes remaining closed, but I could feel a faint flicker of hope stirring within me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was taking a step toward reclaiming what had been stolen from us.

Kneeling beside Dorian, I could feel my chest tighten, a lump forming in my throat as I took in the state of him. His face was pale and gaunt, bruises darkening his once-proud features. The sight of him—so broken, so unlike the strong, steady presence I had known—brought tears to my eyes. My fingers trembled as I brushed the hair from his forehead, my voice breaking as I whispered, “Dorian, please... wake up.”

He didn’t stir, his breathing shallow and uneven. Panic gripped me, the weight of the moment crashing down as I realized how close I was to losing him. My mind raced, desperation clouding my thoughts until, suddenly, a memory surfaced.

Our lessons together.

Dorian had always been a natural with the Winds; his control and understanding of their power were something I had admired from the moment I saw him channel. He’d been patient with me, guiding me gently as I struggled to grasp the nuances of Spring—of regrowth, of renewal. His voice echoed in my mind, calm and steady, as he’d explained the balance between the Winds and the strength it required to channel them.

“Spring isn’t about power, Liliana,” he’d said, his hands gently guiding mine. “It’s about nurturing, about breathing life into what’s been lost. You have to give a piece of yourself to make something whole again.”

I clenched my fists, the memory burning brightly as I knelt over him. If there was ever a moment to call upon Spring, it was now. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I reached deep within myself, searching for the spark of energy that I knew was there.

The Wind of Spring stirred faintly, a gentle warmth blooming in my chest. It wasn’t like the fiery surge of Summer—this was softer, quieter, but no less powerful. I focused on that warmth, letting it grow, feeling it spread through my body until it reached my fingertips. Slowly, I placed my hands over Dorian’s chest, the warmth pooling in my palms as I channeled the Wind into him.

The effort was immediate and exhausting. My limbs grew heavy, my breaths shallow, but I pressed on, focusing on the faint pulse of life within him. The bruises on his face seemed to lighten, his breathing becoming steadier, deeper. A faint flush of color returned to his cheeks, the gauntness of his features softening ever so slightly.

I felt the warmth begin to fade, my energy nearly spent, but I kept going, pouring everything I had into him. “Come back to me,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please, Dorian. I need you.”

His eyes fluttered.

My heart leaped as I watched him stir, his head turning faintly toward me. A soft, raspy breath escaped his lips, and then his eyes—still tired and unfocused—opened just barely.

“L...Liliana?” His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it was enough to send a flood of relief through me.

“Yes,” I said, my tears falling freely now as I leaned closer. “It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dorian blinked slowly, his gaze locking onto mine, the faintest flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes. “You... you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always come for you.”

The exhaustion hit me then, the effort of channeling Spring leaving my body weak and trembling. But it didn’t matter. Dorian was awake. He was alive. And for the first time in days, hope burned brightly in my chest.

Tears streamed down my face as I knelt beside Dorian, the overwhelming relief of hearing his voice and seeing his eyes open washing over me like a flood. His gaze was tired but familiar, the faintest glimmer of his old strength still there, buried beneath the pain and exhaustion. I leaned closer, wrapping my arms around him as much as his chains allowed, my head resting against his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I wept softly. “You’re safe, Dorian.”

He tried to lift his arms, the heavy shackles clinking faintly as he shifted. “Liliana,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but laced with emotion. “You... you shouldn’t have come here. It’s too dangerous.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” I said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I had to find you. I had to save you.”

His gaze softened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the pain that lingered there. “You’ve always been so stubborn,” he whispered, his voice tinged with admiration.

I laughed faintly through my tears, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “And you’ve always been worth it.”

The sight of the chains still binding him sent a fresh wave of determination through me. I glanced at the iron shackles encircling his wrists and ankles, their weight a cruel reminder of his captivity. My hands trembled as I reached for one of the locks, my anger and frustration bubbling to the surface once more.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the fire of Summer that I had summoned before. The warmth stirred within me again, growing stronger as I channeled it into my muscles. I clenched my fists, the energy thrumming through my body as I grabbed the chain and pulled with everything I had.

The iron groaned under the force, the faint glow of Summer flickering through my fingertips. With a sharp crack, the chain snapped, the broken links falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Dorian’s eyes widened as he watched, his lips parting in faint amazement.

“Liliana,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder. “The Winds...”

“They haven’t abandoned us,” I said, my voice firm as I moved to the next shackle. One by one, the locks broke under the strength of Summer, the chains falling away until Dorian was finally free. I leaned back, my breath coming in short gasps, my limbs trembling with exertion.

Dorian sat up slowly, his movements tentative as though testing his newfound freedom. Then, without hesitation, he reached for me, pulling me into his arms. His embrace was strong despite his weakness, his hands steady as he held me close. I buried my face against his chest, the tears flowing freely now as the weight of everything crashed over me.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered, my voice muffled against him. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

He tilted my chin up gently, his fingers brushing against my cheek as his gaze locked onto mine. “You’ll never lose me,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “We’ll get through this, Liliana. Together.”

His lips met mine then, soft but fervent, a kiss that spoke of relief, of longing, of promises unspoken but deeply felt. The world seemed to fall away in that moment, the pain and fear replaced by the warmth of his touch, the strength of his love.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads resting against each other, I could feel the faintest spark of hope igniting in my chest. We weren’t out of danger yet—not by a long shot—but for the first time in days, I truly believed we could make it through this. Together, we could reclaim everything that had been stolen from us.

Dorian’s hand brushed against my cheek, his thumb wiping away the remnants of my tears as we sat together in the dim light of the dungeon. His gaze, though still weary, held an intensity that sent a pang through my chest. I could see the questions brewing behind his eyes, the fractured memories he was piecing together, and I knew what was coming before he even spoke.

“Liliana...” His voice was hoarse but steady, the weight of his words already pulling at my heart. “My parents... I saw them... they were being dragged away in chains.” He paused, his brow furrowing deeply. “What happened to them? Are they... are they safe?”

My breath hitched, the question hitting me like a blow. The faint spark of hope in his eyes made it so much harder, the fragile thread of optimism he clung to, wrapping tightly around my heart and squeezing painfully. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze as the words formed on my tongue.

“Dorian,” I started softly, my voice trembling. “I... I’m so sorry.”

His hand dropped from my face, his expression shifting to one of confusion and growing dread. “Liliana, what are you saying?” he asked, his tone sharper now. “Where are they? What happened?”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look him in the eye, even as my vision blurred with tears. “They’re gone,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “The intruders... they executed them. Earlier today.”

The words hung heavily in the air, each one striking like a hammer blow. Dorian’s face froze, his features going blank as he processed what I’d said. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his body still as if the world itself had stopped.

“No,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “No, that’s not... that can’t be true.”

“I was there,” I said, my tears falling anew. “I saw it happen. Your mother... she was so strong, Dorian. She held her head high until the very end. And she—she looked at me. She knew I was there. She believed in us.”

Dorian’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as a storm of emotion flickered across his face—grief, anger, disbelief, and something deeper, something raw and primal. “They... they killed them,” he said, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “My parents. My mother and father. And I was chained down here, useless, while they...”

“You weren’t useless,” I interrupted firmly, placing my hands on his shoulders. “You’re here now, Dorian. We’re here. And your mother—she believed in you. She believed in us. She knew we could reclaim the kingdom.”

His eyes met mine, the intensity of his grief threatening to overwhelm him, but I held his gaze, refusing to let him fall completely into despair. “We can’t let them win,” I said, my voice steady despite my trembling hands. “We have to fight for them, for the kingdom. For everything they gave their lives to protect.”

Dorian closed his eyes, his shoulders trembling under the weight of his grief. Slowly, he nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “For them,” he murmured, his voice heavy but resolute. “We’ll fight for them.”

At that moment, I saw the spark of determination in his eyes, faint but growing. Together, we would rise, and together, we would reclaim what had been taken from us. The kingdom would not fall—not as long as we still stood to fight for it.