Crown Of The Forgotten

Chapter 6: Marked by Shadows

The city of Kaelstead never felt the same after that night. Even before the sun rose, a hush lay over the streets, heavy and suffocating. Arin could feel it pressing against her skin, twisting through the air like invisible chains. The chapel fight had changed everything. She knew it. And now, the shadows inside her were louder than ever, whispering, tugging, demanding.

Kaelen led the way through back alleys, his cloak brushing against wet cobblestones. Arin followed, her steps hesitant but steady. She still shook from the adrenaline of the fight, the blood of the Watchers clinging to her skin and clothes. Every time she remembered the way her dagger moved on its own, guided by the shadows inside her, her stomach turned.

Rise.

The word pulsed in her blood like a heartbeat. She hated it, feared it, and yet… she obeyed.

“Where are we going?” she asked, voice low, almost swallowed by the morning fog.

Kaelen’s eyes scanned the alleys. “Somewhere you’ll be safe… for now. You need rest, and you need to start learning.”

Arin’s brow furrowed. “Learning? Kaelen, I barely survived last night. You want me to learn what exactly?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, watching the streets like a predator. “Survival isn’t enough. You’re marked now. And being marked draws attention.”

Her stomach sank. “Attention? By who?”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. “By anyone who remembers the crown. By anyone who serves those who will take it back. And by the shadows themselves.”

Arin’s chest felt like it would burst. She tried to steady her breathing. “The shadows… I thought I controlled them.”

“You don’t.” His voice was quiet, sharp. “They respond. They follow. But they have their own will. They will push you, twist you, and test you. You will need to bend without breaking, or they will consume you.”

Arin’s fingers itched to touch her dagger, but she didn’t. She had a vague memory of how it had moved on its own, guided by something she couldn’t see. The thought of that power rising again made her feel both terrified and alive.

Rise.

The alley opened into a wider street, abandoned this early. Kaelen stopped near a small, decaying tavern tucked behind a row of merchants’ stalls. Its windows were dark, dust-coated, and broken in places.

“This will do for now,” he said. “It’s off the main path. The Watchers will search the streets and rooftops first, not here.”

Arin hesitated. She wanted to argue, to demand something safer, but she knew she had no choice. She followed him inside. The air was stale, thick with the smell of rot and wood smoke. Rats scuttled across the floor, and a broken chair leaned against the wall.

Kaelen pulled a hidden latch behind the bar, revealing a stairway down into the shadows. “Follow me.”

They descended into a small basement room. Candles flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. A cot lay in one corner, a small table in another, and shelves filled with books and bottles lined the walls.

Arin sank onto the cot, her body trembling. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memories of the fight, the blood, the way the shadows had guided her hand.

Kaelen knelt before her, placing a hand on the table. “You’re marked now, Arin Vale. That mark isn’t visible, but it exists. In your blood, in your memory. The shadows have claimed you. They will never leave you.”

She swallowed hard. “Then… why me? Why not someone else?”

Kaelen’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because the crown remembered you. It chooses its heir, not the world. You are tied to it, and it is tied to you. That is the way of things. You can fight it, but you cannot escape it.”

Arin wanted to scream, to fight, to throw herself into the streets and vanish. But deep down, she knew he was right. There was no going back.

Her hands went to her temples. “What if I fail?”

Kaelen’s voice was calm, but heavy with truth. “Then everything falls. And those who still remember the crown will die for it. Including you, eventually.”

The words struck her like a blow. She wanted to protest, to say she wouldn’t fail. But even as the thought left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t true. She was unprepared, untrained, and the shadows inside her were unpredictable.

Her breath came in shaky gasps. She felt the pull of the shadows again, coiling in her veins, whispering to her, urging her to rise, to fight, to strike.

Rise.

Her eyes snapped open. Kaelen was watching her, waiting. “Control it,” he said simply. “Don’t let it control you. Focus. Let it flow, but bend it to your will.”

She nodded slowly, gripping the edge of the cot. Her legs trembled as she stood. The room felt too small, the shadows too alive. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the pull again.

This time, she tried to guide it, to reach into the darkness and bend it, just slightly, to her command. A tendril of shadow rose from her veins like smoke curling through the air. She felt it, saw it, and controlled it… barely. But it was enough.

Kaelen’s eyes widened slightly. “Good. That was the first step.”

Arin’s knees buckled. She felt light-headed, dizzy from the effort. “First step?”

“Yes,” he said. “Many more to come. Every day, every moment will be a step. You’ll need to fight, to survive, to remember, and to control. The crown isn’t a gift. It is a chain, a test, a weapon. And now, it is yours.”

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw herself into the shadows and vanish forever. But she didn’t. Because the crown, the shadows, the whispers—they were hers. And somehow, she knew that she would rise again.

Kaelen’s voice broke through the swirl of fear and power in her head. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we begin properly. You’ll learn to bend the shadows. You’ll learn to survive the city, the Watchers, and the crown itself. And then… you’ll learn why the empire fell, and why you are the last hope.”

Arin lay back on the cot, exhaustion dragging her into a fitful sleep. Outside, the city whispered, the shadows waiting, and the crown called.

Rise.

And Arin Vale, marked by shadows and memory, would rise again.

Arin woke hours later, the candlelight flickering across the stone walls. The shadows in the room seemed alive, curling along the edges of the cot and creeping up the walls. She could feel them in her veins, pulsing, whispering. Rise.

Her hand went instinctively to her dagger, but she didn’t lift it. She didn’t want to hurt anyone tonight. She only wanted to understand.

Kaelen was already awake, seated at the table, cleaning his sword. His movements were precise, controlled, calm—everything Arin was not. He looked up and gave her a small nod. “Good. You didn’t call on the shadows in your sleep.”

Arin blinked. “I tried not to.”

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They are patient. They wait. But patience is dangerous. You need to learn to anticipate them, or they will overtake you.”

She shivered. The thought of the shadows overtaking her was like fire in her chest. She could feel their hunger, a cold emptiness that wanted to consume everything inside her.

“What if I can’t control them?” she whispered.

“You will,” Kaelen said firmly. “But only if you accept them. If you fight them, they will win. You cannot deny what you are, Arin Vale. You are marked. There is no going back.”

Her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to be marked. She didn’t want the crown, the shadows, the blood. She wanted a simple life, one where she could wake up and not feel like the city was watching, like death was breathing down her neck. But that life was gone. The crown had remembered her, and now she had no choice.

Kaelen pushed the sword aside and leaned forward, his eyes locking on hers. “The first lesson isn’t about fighting. It’s about understanding. Feel the shadows. Let them flow through you, let them speak to you. They are older than anything you’ve known. They can teach you. But only if you listen.”

Arin swallowed hard. She closed her eyes and focused, trying to feel the shadows, trying not to fear them. At first, she felt nothing but panic, the rapid thump of her own heart drowning the whispers. Then, slowly, she sensed it: a pull, like threads connecting her veins to something bigger, older. A hum that resonated inside her chest, inside her blood.

Rise.

Her eyes flew open. She could see them now, faint shapes curling around her like smoke, black ribbons of power that danced along her arms. They were alive. Watching. Waiting.

Kaelen nodded. “Good. Now, do not reach for them with your dagger. Do not strike. Just let them move. Feel them, understand their rhythm.”

Arin’s stomach twisted again, but she obeyed. The shadows coiled and recoiled, responding to her heartbeat, to her breath. She felt them connect to her fear, her anger, her memory of the fight in the chapel. She felt their hunger, but also their loyalty, fragile as it was.

Minutes passed. The room was silent except for her shallow breathing and the faint hiss of the shadows. When she finally opened her eyes, Kaelen’s expression had softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense.

“You are learning,” he said quietly. “But this is only the beginning. The Watchers will not forget. Others will come. And the city itself will test you. You must be ready.”

Arin felt her legs give out again, exhaustion and fear colliding. She sank back onto the cot. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Kaelen crouched beside her. “You can. And you will. Because there is no other choice.”

A long silence followed. Arin stared at the ceiling, at the flickering shadows that seemed to stretch from her own body to the walls. She thought of the crown, of the empire that had fallen, of the blood she had spilled and the blood yet to come.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” she whispered.

Kaelen’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder. “You are the last heir. That is who you are. But who you become… that is up to you.”

Outside, the city breathed. Somewhere, in the alleys and rooftops, the Watchers moved, silent and patient. They were not done. The crown’s memory stretched beyond the chapel, beyond Arin, reaching into every shadow, every whispered corner of Kaelstead.

And in her blood, the shadows stirred, alive, impatient, waiting for her to rise.

Arin Vale closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath. She had survived the first fight. She had bent the shadows just slightly to her will. But she knew this: the price of memory was far from over.

The crown called. The shadows answered. And Arin Vale… she would rise again.