The Crimson Crown

Time fractured.

The moment Clara’s cry pierced the air, everything around me seemed to slow, the once-boisterous music fading into an eerie stillness. The hooded figure surged forward, their movements exaggerated and lethargic as if they waded through honey. The blade, glinting wickedly in the flickering candlelight, rose high above their head, its sharp edge promising nothing but death.

I could see the individual beads of sweat trailing down the attacker’s temple, the ripple of their cloak as it billowed with their motion. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, each beat a deafening drum in the silence. My legs felt rooted to the polished floor, my dress heavy as lead, refusing to let me move.

Dorian’s grip on my hand tightened with such force it almost hurt, his sharp intake of breath cutting through the void of sound. His eyes, wide with panic and fury, darted from the blade to me. I felt his pull, his body leaning back in a desperate attempt to drag me out of harm’s way. His movements were deliberate and protective, but they, too, were trapped in the same sluggish reality.

The hall around me became a tableau of shock and terror. The people in the crowd sat frozen; their faces twisted into masks of horror, hands raised to mouths in silent screams. The guards, stationed along the perimeter of the room, moved sluggishly, their armor clinking faintly as they surged forward, their swords half-drawn, their legs pushing against the resistance of this slowed moment.

And yet, all of it—Dorian's desperate pull, the scrambling guards, the stunned silence of the crowd—seemed distant, hazy, insignificant compared to the dagger. My eyes locked on the weapon as it descended, glinting malevolently, its trajectory unwavering. The flicker of the candles played tricks on the blade, making it gleam like molten silver, a cruel mockery of light against the shadows.

I could hear my breath, shallow and uneven; each exhale caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. The scent of wax and burning wicks mingled with the faint metallic tang of the dagger, sharp and foreboding. My knees threatened to buckle, but my body refused to give in, too caught in the paralyzing moment to collapse.

The attacker’s eyes, dark and unyielding, burned with intent beneath the shadow of their hood. There was no hesitation in their movements, no faltering in their resolve. They were close enough now that I could see the coarse fabric of their cloak, the calloused grip of their fingers around the hilt.

And still, the blade came down, slow yet inevitable, slicing through the thick air like a predator’s claw. It was only then, as time crawled to a near halt, that I realized the sheer fragility of my existence, the precarious line I walked between life and death.

I wasn’t ready.

The world around me blurred into a tunnel of light and shadow, sound and silence, fear and defiance. Helpless, I watched as the dagger carved its path toward me.

At the very last moment, just as the dagger plunged downward with relentless intent, a shadow moved into my vision—a blur of motion faster than the crawling pace of the world around me. Time stuttered, then surged, as the blade found its mark. A sickening sound split the air, followed by an unmistakable gasp of pain.

The attacker froze, their hood falling back to reveal a face twisted in shock and confusion. The dagger was embedded in flesh, but not mine. My breath caught, and the hall burst into chaos as the guards surged forward, slamming the assailant to the ground, the weapon wrenching free with the motion.

I looked down, my entire body trembling, and the world seemed to collapse into that single, agonizing moment. Clara was crumpled at my feet, her hands clutching her chest, blood seeping between her fingers and staining the pale fabric of her attendant dress.

“No,” I whispered, falling to my knees beside her. My hands hovered over hers, unsure of where to touch, terrified to cause her more pain. “Clara, no. Why?”

Her face was pale, but her lips curved into the faintest smile. “You…” she murmured, her voice weak yet resolute. “You’re my Queen. My friend. I couldn’t… let it be you.”

Tears blurred my vision, and I clutched her hand tightly, the warmth of her blood spreading across my fingers. “You shouldn’t have…” My voice broke, a sob catching in my throat.

Behind us, the guards dragged the assailant away, their cries of defiance drowned out by the panicked murmurs of the crowd. The grand hall had descended into chaos, but all I could focus on was Clara.

Dorian was beside me in an instant, his hand on my shoulder, his face etched with anguish. “We need a healer,” he said, his voice trembling. He turned to one of the guards. “Get help. Now!”

Clara’s grip on my hand tightened weakly, and I looked into her eyes, the light in them flickering like a candle in the wind. “You’re going to be fine,” I told her, my voice fierce with determination. “You hear me? You’re going to be fine.”

Her smile wavered, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m just glad…” she whispered, her voice fading. “That I could… protect you.”

“No,” I said again, shaking my head, my tears falling freely. “Don’t you dare leave me, Clara. You’re not done here. You’re not done with me.”

The room spun around me, the weight of the moment crushing, suffocating. Time had returned to its normal pace, but for me, everything had stopped. As the guards shouted for a healer and the crowd pressed closer, desperate to see what had transpired, I could only hold Clara’s hand, willing her to stay, to fight, to live.

Time stretched into an agonizing eternity as I knelt beside Clara, her blood pooling across the stone floor like a dark, spreading shadow. The gleaming crimson starkly contrasted against the polished surface, a horrifying testament to the sacrifice she’d just made. My trembling hands found hers, gripping them as if my touch alone could anchor her to this world.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain yet still holding an expression that pierced straight to my soul. Love, respect, and unmistakable fear swirled in those familiar eyes, her lips glistening with the blood she struggled to keep inside.

“Clara…” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of her name. My tears fell freely now, mingling with the blood staining the stone, an aching desperation gripping my heart.

She smiled faintly, the smallest curve of her lips, though it only made the blood welling there more prominent. “Don’t cry… Your Grace,” she whispered, her words barely audible over the chaos around us.

Her words shattered me further, and memories of every moment we’d shared flashed through my mind: the first time she stepped into my life as a guiding light in the darkness of servitude, the nights she comforted me, her steady hand when I was lost, her quiet resolve when I faltered. And now, her sacrifice—this ultimate act of love and loyalty—had taken her from me.

“You’re going to be fine,” I choked out, gripping her hand tighter as if I could transfer my will into her weakening body. “I won’t let you go, Clara. You hear me? I won’t.”

Her breathing hitched, her fingers twitching faintly in mine. “I… I couldn’t let them… take you,” she murmured, her voice trembling, fragile as a brittle leaf in winter. Her eyes bore into mine, a mixture of devotion and pleading as if asking for reassurance I couldn’t give.

“I need you,” I whispered, my tears falling faster now, streaking down my cheeks and dripping onto her paling skin. “You can’t leave me, Clara. Not now. Please, not now.”

The chaos of the grand hall melted into a muted hum around me; the cries of the crowd and the sharp orders of the guards dulled to nothing but background noise. At this moment, there was only Clara and me—her life slipping away in my hands and my heart breaking with every passing second.

I watched as the light in her eyes flickered like a dying ember, her grip on my hand loosening. The love and respect in her gaze were unwavering even as fear clouded her final moments. Her lips moved faintly, forming words I couldn’t hear, but I could see the plea in her expression.

“Stay with me,” I begged, my voice trembling as I leaned closer. “You’re not allowed to leave me, Clara. You’ve always been there for me. Let me be there for you now.”

But as her body grew still and the life faded from her gaze, a crushing weight descended on my chest, and I let out a broken sob. My friend, my confidante, the one who had stood by my side through it all, was gone.

My cries tore through the grand hall, raw and guttural, a sound of anguish that seemed to shake the very walls around me. The air was thick with tension, the crowd frozen in their seats, their faces painted with shock and sorrow. But I couldn’t care less about them, couldn’t focus on anything but the lifeless weight of Clara in my arms.

“No!” I screamed the word echoing like a thunderclap. “No, you don’t get to leave me! Not like this!”

The Winds stirred around me, a faint whisper at first, like a distant call across a barren plain. My grip on Clara tightened, my tears falling freely onto her pale, still face. Her hand, once so steady and strong, lay limp in mine, and the sight broke something deep inside me.

I closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of strength and every memory of our bond. The Winds roared to life, their presence a force so powerful it seemed to vibrate through the air, wrapping around me like an unyielding embrace.

“Come on,” I pleaded, my voice trembling as I reached deep into the current of Spring, its energy buzzing against my fingertips. “Come back to me, Clara. I’m not letting you go!”

The room seemed to hold its breath as I threw myself into the flow of Spring, channeling it with a desperation I’d never known. The vibrant energy coursed through me, filling my veins with a warmth that spread into Clara’s body. Her jagged and gaping wound began to mend before my eyes, the flesh knitting itself back together with an unnatural speed.

The faintest hint of color returned to her cheeks, her pallor fading as new blood surged through her veins, summoned by the force of my will and the unrelenting strength of Summer. The Winds howled around us, a cacophony of life and power, filling the air with an electric charge that seemed to make time itself stand still.

“Stay with me!” I commanded, tears blurring my vision as I poured every ounce of my soul into the flow. Spring’s regrowth enveloped Clara, rejuvenating her cells, repairing the damage, and breathing life back into her fragile form.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as the impossible unfolded before them, the Winds wrapping Clara in their embrace. Her chest rose faintly, then again, more steadily, her lips parting as the first gasp of air escaped her.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and confused but alive. The sight sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down my face, my heart swelling with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“Clara!” I choked out, clutching her hand as her gaze met mine. Recognition slowly dawned in her eyes.

“What… happened?” she whispered, her voice faint but steady.

“You’re safe,” I murmured, my voice trembling as I leaned closer. “You’re alive.”

She blinked up at me, her lips curving into the faintest smile as a tear slid down her cheek. “You… saved me.”

I nodded, my breath hitching as I whispered, “I couldn’t let you go.”

Around us, the hall erupted into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs, the people witnessing the miracle unable to comprehend what they had just seen. But none of it mattered. At that moment, Clara was alive, and that was all I needed.

Time stretched and twisted, each heartbeat a resounding echo in my chest as I pulled Clara into a tight embrace. Her body, weak and trembling, melted into mine as I held her close, unwilling to let go. Tears streamed down my face, soaking into the fabric of her dress as I clung to her, feeling the fragile yet steady rhythm of her breath against my shoulder.

Her limp arms slowly lifted, wrapping around me with a strength that seemed to grow with every passing moment. The faint tremble in her fingers steadied, and her grip tightened as she pressed herself closer as if drawing from the energy still coursing through me.

Her breath brushed against my ear, soft but resolute. “I wasn’t ready to die,” she whispered, her voice cracking but laced with determination. “Not yet. But the thought of you… dying…” Her words hitched, a quiet sob escaping her lips. “That was worse than anything.”

I buried my face in her shoulder, my tears falling freely now, mixing with hers as the weight of her words pressed against my heart. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again,” I choked out, my voice barely audible. “I can’t lose you, Clara. I won’t.”

Her grip on me tightened, her arms now strong, steady as if reclaiming her resolve with every passing second. “You won’t,” she murmured, her words carrying a promise that felt as unbreakable as the bond we shared.

Around us, the world seemed to blur and fade, the murmurs of the crowd and the distant shuffle of guards becoming nothing more than a faint hum. In this moment, there was only us—two souls bound by loyalty, love, and a shared will to survive.

“I’ll fight,” Clara whispered, her voice gaining strength. “For you, for this kingdom. I’ll fight with everything I have, Liliana.”

“You don’t have to fight alone,” I replied, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, their familiar warmth now shining with renewed fire. “We’ll fight together.”

She nodded, a faint smile breaking through the pain etched on her face. “Together.”

As the hall began to stir with renewed activity, the weight of what had just transpired settled over me, but so too did a sense of hope. 

Dorian’s strong hands gripped mine as he gently pulled me to my feet, his touch grounding me amidst the chaos that threatened to swallow me whole. Clara, unsteady but alive, leaned on us both, her breaths shallow but steady, her blood staining the polished stone beneath us. Together, we steadied her as the healers arrived, their urgent hands guiding her away with words of reassurance that barely registered in my mind.

The crimson streaks left behind were a stark reminder of how close I had come to losing her, and my heart clenched painfully as I watched her disappear into the crowd, her head turning back for a fleeting moment, her eyes meeting mine in a silent promise.

The priest’s voice broke through the haze, his words ringing with a reverence that felt distant, almost surreal. “Behold, a miracle performed by our new Queen! The Winds have graced her with their favor, healing the wounded and renewing life within our walls.”

A deafening roar of cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, their clapping hands and jubilant cries rising like a tidal wave. Yet, to me, it was as if I were trapped in a tunnel, the sound muffled and far away. My gaze swept over their ecstatic faces, their adoration blinding, yet it failed to pierce the veil of numbness that encased me.

Dorian’s hand never left mine, his steady presence the only anchor I had. I barely noticed the priest stepping forward, holding the royal crown in his hands, its gold glinting in the warm light of the hall. With slow, deliberate movements, he lowered it onto my head, its weight settling against my brow like a chain.

The cheers grew louder, the crowd surging with energy, but it was all a blur, a cacophony of noise drowned by the relentless echo of Clara’s near-sacrifice. I stared out over the crowd, their faces a sea of hope and joy, but my thoughts were elsewhere, trapped in that harrowing moment when the knife had descended when Clara’s blood had spilled for me, her blood staining my shaking hands.

I stood silent, my shoulders squared, my chin held high. Yet, inside, I was trembling, the crown a heavy reminder of what I had gained—and what I almost lost.

Dorian’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me once more, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering support. I squeezed his hand in return, the faintest flicker of resolve sparking within me.

I was their Queen now. I had a kingdom to protect, a legacy to uphold, and people who believed in me. But more than that, I had friends and loved ones who had risked everything for me. And I would not fail them.