Crown

“I told you this was a bad idea, Kinsey.” The General’s voice cut through the downpour—sharp with annoyance, yet weary, as if he’d uttered the same warning a thousand times already. This time, instead of sparring back with a sarcastic jab, I simply quickened my pace, squelching through the muddy path in an effort to put as much distance between us as possible. His boots made no move to follow; the wet earth swallowed the sound behind me.

Ever since I’d learned we were coming to Whenua two weeks ago, I’d been meticulously plotting this detour. The Falls of Zederoth had existed in my imagination for years—everyone spoke of their crystalline beauty, where water hurled itself over cliffs studded with precious stones that blazed in the sunlight. Whenua was famous for its hot, cloudless days; it seemed unthinkable to waste even one without visiting the falls.

Who could have guessed it would rain today?

In a country where it almost never does.

Kase, as always, had warned me this little excursion would be pointless.

“We should just stay in the Dogeke’s mansion, attend the meeting, and leave,” he’d said, as if that were all there was to traveling.

But honestly, what’s the point of coming to a new country if you don’t let yourself experience any of it? Sure, our visit was strictly political, but I was determined to see the world I was supposed to help forge an alliance with. Was that so reckless?

In short, Kase is Xadom’s loyal shadow, and as long as we’re here, he won’t leave me alone—at least not until we’re safely back in Eldur.

A gust of cold wind from the brewing storm whipped around me, sending a fresh shiver up my arms. The rain was relentless—soaking through my clothes and making it impossible to keep warm. I was reminded, uncomfortably, of the frigid reception we’d received from the Barphas delegation at our own castle months before.

Suddenly, a heavy weight landed on my shoulders, nearly knocking me off balance. My boots slid in the mud and I staggered, barely managing to keep my footing.

“How much farther to the car?” Kase asked, appearing at my side and pulling the sodden cloak tighter around me. His voice was muffled by the rain, but the exasperation was clear. “This rain’s like ice.”

“Just a few more meters, Dan Drayce,” came the reply from the General, who trudged ahead, his silhouette barely visible through the curtain of rain. The sky, though it was only mid-afternoon, had been swallowed by storm clouds so dark I could hardly see two feet in front of us.

Kase gave a sharp, frustrated snort, matching his pace to mine.

“Sorry to drag you into this,” I muttered, my voice nearly lost in the patter of rain. Disappointment weighed heavily in my chest—not just for myself, but for him.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders, steadying me and shielding me as best he could.

“As if I’d let you wander off alone in a country I barely trust,” he said, his tone softening. “Even if you’d left me behind at the mansion, I would’ve come after you eventually.” There was a hint of a smile in his words, despite everything.

I gave a silent nod, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

Drenched, shivering, and thoroughly miserable though I was, I felt a flicker of relief. If it weren’t for Kase—my older brother and relentless protector—this miserable trek through storm and mud would feel even more hopeless.

Kase said nothing after that, only tightened his grip around my shoulders, urging me forward through the mire. The mud clung stubbornly to my boots, threatening to pull me under with every step. I was grateful, at least, for my choice of footwear, though the hem of my favorite dress was beyond salvation—soaked, stained, and torn by brambles and muck. The loss stung, but it was the least of my worries now.

We trudged after the general in tense silence, the world around us dissolving into a storm of wind, rain, and crackling thunder. Each flash of lightning twisted the trees into grotesque shadows, and the sky had darkened so completely it felt as if night had fallen prematurely. My legs ached, burning from the constant struggle to keep moving, and the soaked cloak clinging to my back offered little protection from the biting cold. Even Kase, usually so unshakable, shivered beside me.

“For the love of Elaessai! How much farther is it?” I finally burst out, my patience fraying as I raised my voice to be heard above the roar of the storm.

The general didn’t turn.

“Do not worry, Dan Drayce. We’ve arrived.” Relief flooded me so swiftly I nearly staggered, letting out a shaky sigh.

“It’s about time,” I muttered, drawing closer, “I don’t remember the falls being this far from the bridge.” We stopped just a few paces behind the general’s looming silhouette.

“The deep mud distorts perception, Dan Drayce,” he replied, his tone unreadable.

I peered around, searching for any sign of the car or the bridge, but all I could see were the two soldiers who’d come with us, standing rigidly in the gloom. No vehicle, no glimmer of river through the trees—just endless mud and the oppressive press of the storm. A strange unease prickled at my skin. The trees here were thinner, sparser than they’d been by the bridge. Everything felt wrong.

Kase’s silence beside me grew heavy, ominous. His arm remained firm around my shoulders, but now it was less reassuring—a silent warning.

A sob threatened to escape my throat, and I choked it back.

“Akhmad Mensah,” I called out, my voice trembling as I watched him turn to face us. His golden eyes caught the lightning, glinting with something sharp and cruel in the shadows. “What’s going on? Where are we?” I pressed closer to Kase, fear knotting in my chest.

A slow, terrible smile spread across the general’s face.

“Exactly what should have happened the moment you set foot in my country,” he said, his laughter harsh and joyless. The sound sent a shudder through me. “Did you truly believe we Jords would ever ally ourselves with your kind? After the insults, the humiliation, the thefts—and now you expect us to bow and shake hands? Not by Xalleran’s heaven!”

Kase’s voice rumbled low and furious, his hand gripping my arm.

“Your leader invited us, General. The alliance was his idea, not ours.”

“Gowon is no leader,” Mensah spat, his voice rising with each word, thunder echoing his fury. “He is as weak and corrupt as his father—both should have been overthrown long ago. And once I’m done with you,”—he shot me a cold, triumphant glance—“he and his traitorous son will be next. I will restore the pride, the sovereignty, that Whenua deserves.”

Lightning forked overhead, illuminating the general’s face twisted in rage. The words struck me harder than the cold. I realized, with a sick certainty, that this was the end. We were caught, exposed, and powerless beneath the merciless downpour.

Terror and guilt crashed over me—guilt for dragging Kase into this, for ignoring his warnings. Tears blurred my vision, the world dissolving into water and darkness. I pressed my face into Kase’s chest, clinging to him with desperate hope, praying for some miracle to save us from the storm—and from the wrath of Akhmad Mensah.

“A coup d’état.” Kase let out a dry, humorless laugh, his eyes never leaving the general. “And what makes you so sure your people will accept you? You’re not a Dogeke. The other nations—they’ll never recognize your rule or your government.”

Akhmad’s lips curled into a sinister smile.

“Everyone who stands against me will fall.” Lightning lanced the sky, thunder crashing so close it seemed to shake the air. “Now, let’s finish this.”

As his words hung in the storm-drenched air, I felt a cold, creeping sensation snaking up my legs. I looked down in horror. The mud, impossibly, was rising—thick, viscous, and alive, climbing past my knees, sucking at my body as if to pull me into the earth itself. My heart hammered in my chest as the ooze swallowed my waist. I clung to Kase, staring up at him in panic.

“I don’t want to die, Kase,” I gasped through sobs. “I don’t want to—please—” My brother’s face was pale, his eyes wide and fixed on the mud that now engulfed his legs and threatened to do worse. He didn’t answer; he couldn’t.

I twisted to face the general, desperation cracking my voice.

“Please, don’t do this! I’m begging you!” My plea was lost in the storm, answered only by the general’s laughter, sharp and pitiless.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he said with a mocking bow, then flicked his hand in a silent command to the waiting guards.

The mud surged higher, cold and suffocating, until it pressed against my neck—up to Kase’s chest. The stink of wet earth filled my nose, and the relentless drumming of rain all but drowned out my ragged breaths.

Paralyzed, I could only cling to Kase as the two soldiers closed in, their swords drawn, their golden eyes glinting like predatory beasts in the gloom. The one on the left reached us first, sword raised high, poised to strike down my brother.

I squeezed my eyes shut, arms frozen in the mud around Kase, bracing for the inevitable blow. My thoughts raced with all the moments we’d never live—all the futures lost in a heartbeat.

Elaessai, have mercy. Let it be quick.

But instead of a blade, I heard a metallic clang, sharp and jarring, ringing out above the thunder. My eyes snapped open.

Someone was there—a figure cloaked and hooded, standing between Kase and the soldier. His left arm was raised, bent before his face, shielding his eyes from the stinging rain. The soldier’s sword had struck metal, not flesh.

It took a moment for my mind to catch up with what had happened. The hooded stranger hadn’t been shielding himself from the rain—he had intercepted the soldier’s sword with nothing but his bare hand. The blade itself now lay shattered, its upper half hurled somewhere into the sodden darkness, lost in the mud. The soldier, stunned, stared at his hilt in disbelief.

The stranger didn’t so much as hesitate. With a swift, calculated movement, he pivoted and drove his boot into the soldier’s stomach, sending him sprawling back several feet, landing hard in the muck.

I gasped, frozen in shock. Before I could process what I’d just witnessed, the stranger flicked his wrist. The earth beneath us trembled, and then there was a deep, grinding sound—a wall of solid ground surged up, separating us from the Jords. It kept rising, then arched overhead, enclosing us in a rough dome that muted the storm and the shouts outside.

The stranger turned, lowering his hood. He was young—unexpectedly so—his features striking and his black hair perfectly dry despite the rain outside. I couldn’t decipher his expression; it was calm, focused, unreadable.

Without a word, he knelt beside me and began scooping the thick mud away from my shoulders. I realized, through the corner of my eye, that he was working to free Kase’s hand, still gripping my shoulder under the suffocating mire.

“Your Majesty, I need you to warm my hand,” he said, his voice unexpectedly melodious, almost surreal in the chaos. For a heartbeat, I thought he must be some blessing sent straight from Elaessai herself. “Please, Your Majesty, they won’t take long to break through the glass.” He repeated urgently when Kase didn’t immediately respond.

“Come on, Kase, do as he says!” I urged, desperation sharpening my tone. Kase blinked at us, confusion flickering across his face.

“Why?” he asked, breathless and wary.

“This isn’t the time for questions, Kase Drayce!” I snapped, my frustration spilling over. “Just trust him!”

Kase hesitated only a moment longer, then, wordlessly, I felt heat begin to radiate down his arm, pooling into his trapped hand.

“As much heat as you can, Your Majesty,” the stranger pressed, eyes locked on Kase’s.

“If I give you my maximum, it’ll melt your glass,” Kase warned, arching an eyebrow.

A faint, enigmatic smile touched the stranger’s lips.

“I need you to trust me, just for a few more minutes.”

Something in his tone finally convinced Kase, who exhaled shakily and let the heat intensify. Relief flooded through me, warming my chilled body. As Kase poured his strength into the stranger’s hand, I hurried to draw what warmth I could into myself, fighting off the cold. Kase must have sensed it too, because he bent his head and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to my hair.

The stranger’s eyes never left the glowing heat radiating from their joined hands. Both palms pulsed with a molten light, like metal fresh from the forge—except, impossibly, their hands remained solid and unburned.

Suddenly, pounding noises echoed around us, making me jump. Through the translucent, earthen barrier, I could make out the blurred shapes of the general and his soldiers. Their hands had taken on strange, claw-like forms as they battered at the dome—a chilling sign that time was running out.

The stranger let go of Kase’s hand, stepping back. With a swift motion, he shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it over our shoulders. The cloth was thin, almost ethereal, but warmth immediately seeped into my skin.

He turned from us, kneeling in the mud and plunging both hands deep into the earth.

Kase leaned down, whispering, “What is he doing?”

I shook my head, silencing him.

Almost at once, an intense heat began to radiate from beneath us, growing hotter, spreading upward through the layers of mud packed around our bodies. I stared, wide-eyed, as glowing magma began to seep up between us, a molten river just below my chin.

Kase’s breath caught, audible above my head. The air shimmered, thick with heat.

With a sudden, thunderous crack, the mud encasing us hardened, then shattered, bursting apart as the magma forced its way through. In a rush of steam and falling debris, we were free at last, gasping and trembling in the shelter of the stranger’s conjured dome.

I edged away from Kase, my gaze locked on the bubbling pool of molten rock beneath our feet. The magma glowed fiercely, radiating enough heat to sting my skin and dry my soaked clothes. Steam coiled upward, mingling with the cold rain that still battered the shattered dome overhead.

“How did you do that?” I breathed, turning to the stranger. He was already on his feet, watching us with an unreadable expression.

“Stay in the puddle and keep it hot,” he instructed, his voice low but firm. “If you let it cool, the general will regain control and trap you again.” Without another word, he drew back his fist and, in a single, fluid motion, punched the glassy dome. It exploded outward in a shower of glittering fragments.

The blow landed exactly where the general stood; I glimpsed Akhmad Mensah’s silhouette as he was hurled backward, crashing into the mud some distance away. The two soldiers gawked in stunned silence, their fists—now transformed into hulking masses of stone—raised in front of them.

The stranger lifted both hands, palms open in a gesture of peace.

“I don’t want to fight you, Akhmad Mensah,” he called, his voice echoing through the rain and thunder. “Surrender, and I’ll take you back to Coklat. No further harm needs to be done.”

“Who do you think you are, blacktongue?!” the general bellowed, staggering to his feet, mud streaking his uniform.

“I’m merely a passing Nerost,” the stranger replied evenly. At that, tension rippled through the soldiers’ hulking forms.

“A Nerost?!” Mensah spat, his eyes narrowing. “And what business does a Nerost have on Whenua soil?”

"I was walking the border,” the stranger replied, his tone edged with amusement. “But I noticed a gathering of dark clouds—rather ominous, don’t you think? Lucky for you it was me who came to investigate and not an Akmens soldier. Your little coup would have come crashing down—literally.” His words danced with mockery.

“Everyone will fall!” Akhmad shrieked, his voice nearly frantic. “Take me hostage to Coklat and you’ll die for the invasion!” He threw his head back and laughed, wild and reckless.

The Nerost took another step forward, undeterred.

“I believe the law allows a loophole for saving the lives of two foreign dignitaries and stopping a civil war before it starts.” His gaze didn’t waver, but the soldiers braced themselves, blocking his path.

It was clear negotiation was crumbling by the second. I settled myself carefully on the heated stone, drawing the Nerost’s discarded cloak up around my shoulders for warmth. The rain steamed off my skin and the magma hissed soothingly.

“What are you doing?” Kase asked, eyeing me as I pulled the cloak over his shoulder too.

“Keeping myself alive,” I said, tucking the cloak tighter. “And if the Nerost manages to capture the general, I want to make sure he faces justice.” Kase snorted at my logic, but sat beside me in silence, the tension between us easing slightly in the warmth.

“You’re awfully confident for someone at a disadvantage,” Mensah’s silhouette reappeared, advancing through the steam and rain. “Take him!”

In an instant, the first soldier lunged at the Nerost, stone fist raised for a crushing blow. The attack was ponderous, slowed by the sheer weight of the rock; the Nerost sidestepped with effortless grace, then drove a punch into the soldier’s gut. The force sent the Jord flying several yards through the mud.

The second soldier was quicker. He charged, fist connecting with the Nerost’s face in a resounding, wet smack. The Nerost went down hard, and my heart leapt into my throat.

“Oh no,” I gasped, clutching Kase’s arm. But relief surged through me as the Nerost pushed himself up almost instantly, mud streaked across his cheek and a red welt already forming beneath his eye, glinting in the magma’s glow.

The soldier who’d landed the punch rushed him again, but this time the Nerost was ready. He caught the stone fist mid-swing, twisted, and with a fluid motion hurled the soldier over his shoulder. The Jord crashed to the ground, skidding to a stop uncomfortably close to where Kase and I sat.

I scoop up a handful of magma, the heat prickling my palm even as I hurl it with all my strength. The molten rock arcs through the rain-soaked air and strikes the soldier squarely on the side of his face. He releases a guttural howl of pain, staggering as the magma quickly cools and hardens into a jagged mask of stone fused to his skin. I can’t help but laugh as I watch him claw desperately at the new, unwelcome weight, his fingers slipping uselessly over the rough surface.

I turn to Kase, a quip on my tongue, but he’s transfixed—his eyes narrowed and unblinking as he studies the Nerost, who now strides purposefully toward the soldier I’d just struck. The moment for jokes passes, so I swallow my words and focus on what unfolds next.

The first soldier, though dazed, scrambles upright, determined for another attempt. But the Nerost moves with uncanny speed, sweeping the soldier’s legs out from under him. Jord’s fall is violent—mud splashes high, flecking my boots and soaking into the air with the tang of earth and rain.

Curiosity keeps me riveted as the Nerost crouches low, his movements deliberate, and seizes the soldier by the neck. With effortless strength, he drags the flailing man across the churned mud toward the General, whose silhouette stands stiff and unmoving at least fifty meters away, shrouded by rain and shadow.

“A ton,” Chanyeol mutters beside me, almost to himself.

I glance at him. “What?”

He gestures at the Nerost, his brow furrowed.

“The soldier—he’s covered his whole body in stone to protect himself, but the Nerost just drags him along like it’s nothing.” There’s a note of disbelief in his voice, as if he’s questioning the reality of what we’re seeing.

I squint through the downpour and realize that Chanyeol is right. The soldier’s armor—once gleaming—is now encased in a thick, dark shell of rock. He lashes out, driving his fist into the Nerost’s arm, but the blow has no more effect than a pebble tossed against a boulder. The Nerost doesn’t react, not even a flinch; if he feels the blows, he ignores them completely. It’s almost comical—like a mother shepherding a tantruming child.

“By the shield of Maez…” The words leave me in a hush as I watch the Nerost drag the armored soldier closer to the General.

The figures recede into the mist and rain until they’re barely more than shapes. Then, the Nerost halts, his stance resolute.

“Last chance, Akhmad Mensah!” he shouts, his voice slicing through the storm. “Surrender, and no one else has to be hurt!”

A deep, defiant bellow answers him.

“I’ve been Akhmad for over a century!” the General roars. “I have planned this overthrow for more than fifty years, and I’ll be damned if a miserable Nerost will stop me. This is your last chance, child. Either you die—or you die!”

Through the sheets of rain, I see the Nerost dip his head in a small, solemn nod. There’s a muffled thud—perhaps the soldier hitting the mud as the Nerost lets go.

Then, a hollow, sickening impact.

Silence falls. Only the relentless drumming of rain and the distant rumble of thunder remain.

“I truly didn’t want it to come to this, General,” the Nerost’s voice is thick with disappointment, almost mournful. “But you leave me no choice. I cannot allow you to go on murdering foreign leaders. This would shatter the Treaty of Santi, decreed by Libben.”

Suddenly, the ground trembles beneath our feet. A terrible, inhuman scream rips through the night, so piercing that I instinctively seize Kase’s arm, my knuckles white.

My eyes widen in horror as a massive glass spike erupts from the ground just a few feet in front of us, impaling the soldier through the chest and hoisting him into the air. The fluid trickling down the translucent spike is a muddied mix of rain, blood, and earth—its origin impossible to tell.

“You damned son of Rukr!” the General’s furious howl reverberates through the mud and rain, so raw and wild it seems to rattle my bones.

Thud

The ground shakes again. I clamp my arms even tighter around Kase.

Thud

Heavy footsteps—getting closer.

A towering shadow looms in the distance, followed by the Nerost, who hurries toward us. As he nears, I see he’s laughing—though it’s not the laugh of someone at ease. His hair and clothes are soaked, slick with mud and rain. Part of his face is smeared with dirt, the other side swollen and bruised from the soldier’s blows, yet his smile is gentle and strangely reassuring.

“Jords are a drag, aren’t they?” he says with a low chuckle, shaking his head. Then, without warning, he reaches for Kase’s waist and deftly draws his sword. “I’ll just borrow this for a moment,” he adds with a wink.

Before either of us can protest, he’s gone, sprinting toward the monstrous silhouette looming in the storm.

“I can’t believe this.” Kase exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his rain-slicked hair. His fingers trembled slightly—whether from cold, exhaustion, or fury, I couldn’t tell.

“I’ll find someone to forge a new one for you,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. The damp fabric of his coat smelled of iron and wet earth.

“If that were possible,” he muttered, so low I almost missed it beneath the drumming rain. The bitterness in his voice made me bite back my questions.

Behind us, the battlefield was a shifting nightmare. The towering silhouette of the general loomed like a crumbling monument, his massive form swaying unnaturally. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic clang of steel striking stone—each impact sending vibrations through the mud beneath our knees. The sight would have been absurd if not for the terror it carried.

“What’s happening?” The words left my lips before I could stop them.

Kase’s jaw tightened.

“The general is using his last resort. When Jords are cornered, they mutate—alter their size, their composition—to match their element. It’s a final gambit.” At my blank stare, he sighed. “He turned himself into a damn stone giant. Only another Jord or a Nerost can take him down now.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

“So, what are the odds our Nerost wins before we’re flattened into the mud?”

Kase crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the distant struggle.

“Depends on the warrior. But if he loses…” A pause. “There won’t be enough left of us to bury.”

I swallowed hard and turned back to the chaos. The rain and darkness swallowed details, but the tremors underfoot told the story well enough—each step of the general sent shockwaves through the earth.

Unfortunately, they are too far away for me to be able to exert anything amid the darkness and the thick rain, only the tremors on the floor are possible to feel due to the steps of the General.

Then, silence.

No more clashes of steel. No more quaking ground.

For a breathless moment, nothing moved.

Then I realized—the silhouette was growing larger. Not advancing.

Oh... he’s falling.

“Kase—!”

He was already moving, throwing himself in front of me, arms braced. I barely had time to fist my hands in his coat and squeeze my eyes shut before the world erupted.

The impact hit like a landslide. Mud and debris rained over us, the force of the tremor hurling us backward. We skidded through the sludge, coming to a stop several feet away. Gasping, I pushed myself up, my right elbow screaming in protest.

Kase lay motionless beneath me.

“Are you alright?” My voice was raw.

He groaned, eyes still shut.

“Alive. Might’ve cracked a rib.” Every word sounded like it cost him. Slowly, he sat up, and I shifted to his side, following his gaze.

The general’s massive head lay barely seven feet from where we’d been. The magma pit had been smothered under mud and rainwater, steam hissing from the wreckage. The glass spine—once gleaming—was now a filthy, jagged ruin.

Then the Nerost emerged.

As he stepped forward, the general’s colossal form shuddered, collapsing inward until only a broken, naked body remained. I averted my eyes, but not fast enough—the sight of torn flesh and exposed bone seared into my mind.

The stranger knelt beside the corpse, shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, Akhmad Mensah.” His voice was thick. “This wasn’t how it should’ve ended.” Straightening, he bowed deeply. “May Thoanilah grant you peace.”

I felt no pity for the man who’d tried to kill us, but I whispered a prayer anyway—Elaessai, show him mercy.

As the Nerost murmured his rites, the general’s body darkened, skin hardening to rough, glittering stone. Within moments, all that remained was a scattering of obsidian shards. Even the spine had vanished, leaving only uneven rocks in its place.

The Nerost rose, wiping Kase’s sword clean on his tattered sleeve before approaching us.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties.” His voice was weary. “You shouldn’t have witnessed this.” He offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet with surprising gentleness before turning to Kase, who hesitated before accepting the help.

“We walked into this knowing the risks,” Kase grunted, testing his weight. “Should’ve expected a Jord’s pride would demand a spectacle.”

The Nerost nodded, returning the sword. Kase took it without a word.

“You saved our lives,” I said softly. The stranger met my gaze, his eyes shadowed but kind. “You have my gratitude—eternally.”

“The honor was mine.” He dipped his head. “I only thank the gods I was here to act. I grieve that you endured it.”

Kase sheathed his blade with a sharp click.

“We nearly didn’t. Thank you for stepping in…” He trailed off, realizing.

“Ah—my apologies.” The man straightened, offering a tired but genuine smile. “Berlian Efail. Though most call me Lian.” He placed a fist over his heart in salute. “At your service.”