CROWN OF ASHES

ONE

VENUSTAS

The air in Malus tasted like ash and sorrow. It stuck to my skin, sank into my clothes, and filled my lungs like smoke.

No matter how many times I tried to scrub it off, it stayed. It was the taste of my life, here in the forgotten edge of Aramis.

My name was Venustas, and this place was my prison.

I was only seventeen, but I already felt tired. Not just the kind of tired that sleep could fix—this was deeper. It was the kind of weight that pressed on your chest and made every day feel like a battle.

I walked through the cracked streets, just another shadow in a city full of ghosts. The buildings leaned as if they, too, had grown weary. Their walls were chipped, their stones rough and worn down by time.

Somewhere far above the thick gray sky, there was another world. A world filled with light, with magic, with people who had never gone to bed hungry.

That world wasn’t mine.

Magic was everything in Aramis. It lit the cities, powered the towers, healed the sick. But for someone like me, it was forbidden.

Locked away.

I was nothing more than an outcast—just one more face in the ruins of Malus.

Every day felt the same. A quiet fight just to keep going.

The people I passed looked lost in their own silence. Their eyes held no spark, only a dull kind of sadness that had settled in too deep.

Most of them had stopped hoping a long time ago.

And sometimes, I understood.

Sometimes, I felt like letting go too—giving in to the dark, and letting it carry me away.

But then, I thought of Leah.

My sister.

Leah was everything Malus wasn't—bright, warm, full of life. Her laughter used to fill the cracks in this broken world, if only for a moment. Just thinking of her brought a sharp ache to my chest, like a wound that refused to heal.

Her death never left me. It followed me like a shadow, always there, brushing against my back like a cold whisper. A reminder of what I'd lost.

I remembered her smile—soft, real. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams. She used to speak of leaving Malus, of walking beyond the smoke and the filth, of learning magic and becoming someone who mattered.

Now, all I had were pieces of her. Memories that stabbed at me when I least expected them.

Sometimes, I found myself staring up at Aramis Mountain. Its peak was always wrapped in clouds, hidden like a secret the world didn’t want to share.

But I could feel it. Something dark pulsed beneath the surface of that mountain. A presence that hummed low and heavy in my bones.

I didn’t know why, but part of me believed Leah’s death was tied to that place.

The people around me—they’d given up. They walked through life with their heads down, accepting every cruel hand life dealt them. No fight left in them.

But me? I couldn't do that. Something inside me refused to go quiet.

I wanted more. I wanted truth. I wanted justice.

I wanted revenge.

Most of all, I wanted out.

The old temple ruins were the only place I felt even a little bit free. If you could call broken stone and scorched walls a sanctuary that was mine.

The statues had long since crumbled. Smoke still clung to the stones. It smelled like old fire and forgotten things. No one came here anymore. That’s why I did. To breathe. To think. To remember.

Mostly, to remember Leah.

Her death never left me. It lived inside me like a storm, quiet one moment and violent the next. I saw it over and over again. The fire. The screams. The night everything changed.

I still remembered it too clearly.

I had seen it before it happened.

Leah, walking toward the fire, smiling like nothing was wrong. Drawn to it like it was calling her.

I had screamed her name. Reached out.

Too late.

The fire took her. My gift—my foresight—did nothing. I saw her death before it came, and I couldn’t stop it.

That guilt? It ate at me.

I had this so-called power, but it failed when it mattered most. When she needed me most. I hated it. Hated myself for it. And I hated the people who let it happen.

I wanted to scream until the skies split open. I wanted the world to feel the way I did—hollow and burning inside. But I knew that no amount of rage would bring Leah back.

Still… something inside me wouldn’t give up.

****

My home was barely a home at all.

Just a leaning shack at the edge of Malus, smaller than a closet. The roof leaked when it rained. The walls were cracked, like they were holding in a long, tired breath. Cold air lived in every corner, and no matter how many blankets I used, I could never seem to get warm.

I sat alone in the dark, knees pulled to my chest, listening to the soft drip of water from the ceiling. My fingers were numb. My thoughts, worse.

This place—it matched my life. Broken. Forgotten. Left behind.

I tried to quiet my mind, but it was no use. The visions had started again.

At first, they came in small flashes. A flicker of something, a whisper of what was to come. But now… now they hit like storms. Loud. Violent. Unstoppable.

Tonight’s vision was about the Games.

It came like fire behind my eyes—hot, fast, and blinding. I saw the arena first. The sand was red with blood. People screamed. Fighters clashed, faces twisted in pain, in fear. And then… a figure. Cloaked in black, standing still while the world burned around them. Their eyes locked on mine—burning with something dark, something I didn’t understand.

And then—fire. Again. Just like the night Leah died.

I jerked back to the present, heart racing. My hands trembled in my lap.

Why did it always come back to her?

I didn’t ask for this gift—if you could call it that. Seeing the future sounds special, maybe even powerful. But it’s not. Not when you can’t stop what’s coming. Not when you just watch the people you love walk straight into the flames.

The visions never lied. What I saw always happened. And that scared me more than anything.

But this vision felt different.

It wasn’t just a warning—it felt personal. Like the Games weren’t just part of my future… they were tied to my past too. Tied to Leah. Tied to her death. The fire. The pain. All of it.

I didn’t want to go. The thought of stepping into that arena made my stomach twist. I wasn’t a fighter. I had no magic. I was just a girl from the gutters of Malus, living on scraps and memories.

But I had to try.

I had to.

This was the only chance I had to change anything. To stop waking up every day feeling like I was already halfway dead. To stop being afraid of my own mind. Of the future. Of the past.

The Games could give me something I hadn’t had in years.

A choice.

I thought of Leah—of her laugh, her dreams, her bright eyes full of wonder. She’d wanted more. She’d believed we could escape this place. And maybe, somehow, she was right.

Maybe the answer was out there, waiting.

Maybe someone had taken her from me. Someone who needed to pay.

The fire inside me flickered, then roared. I didn’t just want to survive the Games.

I wanted to win.

Not for glory. Not for riches. But for truth. For justice.

For her.

Even if I died trying, I’d die fighting. I’d die with her name in my heart. Not just some quiet, forgotten girl from the dark side of Aramis. Not just another number in the dirt.

But someone who mattered.

Someone who changed something.

And if I could burn the people who took Leah from me in the process?

Even better.