Crown Of The Forgotten

Chapter 5: When Shadows Answered

The doors of the chapel shattered inward. Wood splintered, shards flying across the stone floor as the Watchers poured in like a tide of black water. Their cloaks swirled, their blades gleamed, and their eyes were covered with masks of iron that hid every trace of humanity.

Arin’s breath caught in her throat. She clutched her dagger so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her legs screamed to run, but her chest burned with something darker—an echo of the crown, a whisper she could not silence.

Rise.

Kaelen stepped in front of her, sword flashing. His voice was calm, but sharp as steel. “Stay behind me. Don’t think. Just move when I tell you.”

Arin’s jaw clenched. She hated being told to hide. She hated feeling weak. But when the first Watcher lunged, she ducked instinctively, the blade cutting the air where her head had been. Kaelen struck back, his sword cutting through the man’s shoulder in a single smooth motion.

The fight filled the chapel with chaos. Blades clashing, boots scraping, grunts and curses echoing off the high stone walls. Candles toppled, sparks flaring as wax spilled. Dust rained down from the ceiling as though even the building was shaking from the violence.

Arin darted to the side, her back hitting a broken pew. Her chest heaved. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t ready for this.

Then another Watcher’s eyes locked on her. He moved fast, faster than she could think. She raised her dagger out of desperation. Steel met steel. The shock rattled her arm. She staggered, nearly losing her grip.

“Arin!” Kaelen shouted.

The Watcher pushed against her blade, forcing her down. His strength was crushing. His mask was inches from her face, and she could smell the sweat and iron. Her arm shook, ready to break.

And then she felt it.

The shadows inside her stirred. Her blood roared, not with fear, but with something else. The same whisper as before. Rise.

Her vision blurred. Darkness seeped into her sight, curling at the edges like smoke. Her dagger burned cold in her hand, though no fire touched it. And suddenly she wasn’t pushing alone. Something pushed back.

She screamed, driving her dagger upward with a strength she didn’t know she had. The blade sank deep. The Watcher stiffened, then fell against her, his weight crushing until she shoved him aside.

Her chest heaved. Her hands trembled. The dagger dripped black blood.

Kaelen’s eyes snapped to her. For once, even he looked shaken. “Good. You felt it.”

Arin didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The power was still there, humming in her veins, twisting through her like vines of shadow. It terrified her. It thrilled her.

Two more Watchers rushed forward. Arin barely thought. Her body moved on its own. She dodged one, her dagger slashing in a blur. She felt the whisper guide her hand, felt the blade find the weak point in the armor. She moved faster than she ever had, like the shadows themselves carried her.

One fell. Then another.

Her lungs burned, her arms heavy, but she couldn’t stop. The chapel floor was slick with blood now, bodies scattered. Kaelen moved like a storm, his sword cutting arcs of silver light, but his eyes flicked to her again and again. Watching. Measuring.

When the last Watcher fell, silence crashed into the chapel. Only the sound of Arin’s ragged breathing filled the space. Her dagger slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone. She stared at it, horrified by the blood smeared across the blade.

She whispered, voice cracking, “What did I do?”

Kaelen sheathed his sword slowly, his expression grim. “What you had to. The shadows answered you.”

Arin shook her head, stepping back. “No… no, it wasn’t me. It felt like something else. Like… like I wasn’t in control.”

“That’s because you weren’t.” His voice was low, dangerous. “And you never truly will be, not if you keep fighting it. The crown chose you, Arin Vale. The shadows are part of you now.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream, to claw the whispers out of her veins, to go back to the girl she had been before she touched that cursed chest. But that girl was gone. She knew it now.

Her knees gave out. She dropped onto the cold stone floor, tears burning her eyes. “I don’t want this. I never asked for it.”

Kaelen crouched down, his face close to hers, his voice sharp but steady. “Want has nothing to do with it. You can either master it, or it will master you.”

Arin’s tears spilled, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “And if I fail?”

He didn’t blink. “Then you die. And so will everyone who still remembers the crown.”

The words hit her like a blade to the chest. She wanted to deny it, to run until her legs broke, but she couldn’t. Deep inside, she knew he was right.

The shadows inside her whispered again, soft but clear. Remember.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she saw the crown again—cracked, glowing, waiting.

She opened them, her face pale but determined. “Then teach me. If I’m going to carry this curse, then teach me how to survive it.”

Kaelen studied her for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “But remember, Arin Vale. Every lesson will cost you. And the price will always be paid in blood.”

The chapel fell silent again, heavy with death and shadows. And though Arin’s hands still trembled, though her heart still ached with fear, she knew there was no turning back.

The shadows had answered. And now, they would never leave her.

Arin’s body shook long after the last Watcher had fallen. Her ears rang with the echo of steel on steel, the screams that had torn through the chapel, the way blood had splashed across the cracked stone tiles. The heavy smell of iron and smoke clung to her nose, coating her throat until she thought she might choke on it.

She pressed her palms flat against the floor to steady herself, but the stone felt strange, as if the shadows that had moved through her were still humming beneath her skin, whispering in the cracks.

“Get up,” Kaelen said.

His voice cut through the haze, steady and unyielding. He stood tall, sword still at his side, his cloak torn, his cheek marked by a shallow cut. He looked like a warrior who had walked through a storm and come out the other side untouched.

Arin hated him for it.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice thin. “I can’t even feel my hands. I killed them, Kaelen. I killed them.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “If you hadn’t, they would have killed you. There is no shame in survival.”

“There’s shame in this.” She held up her hands, still smeared in black blood. They shook violently, her fingers stiff as if they belonged to someone else. “I felt it inside me. Like it wanted their deaths. Like it was hungry.”

Kaelen crouched in front of her, his gaze sharp, unrelenting. “It is hungry. The shadows are not tame. They are ancient, older than even I can remember. They live on will, on memory, on the threads that tie us to life. And you are bound to them now.”

Her stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. She wanted to be sick, to empty herself until every shred of shadow was gone. But nothing could strip it out. It wasn’t just in her blood. It was her blood.

Her chest burned. “Then how do I live with it? Tell me how to stop it before it—before it eats me from the inside.”

Kaelen tilted his head, studying her. For a moment he didn’t answer, as though weighing something only he could see. Finally, he said, “You don’t stop it. You learn its rhythm. You bend it before it bends you. If you resist too hard, it will shatter you. If you yield too easily, you will vanish into it. Balance, Arin Vale. That is the only path forward.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound breaking in her throat. “Balance? I couldn’t even balance a dagger in my hand this morning.”

“Then you will learn.”

Her eyes snapped up, meeting his. There was no softness in him, no comfort, no mercy. Only fire. And she realized he would not let her turn away from this path, even if she begged.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“Good,” he replied without hesitation. “You shouldn’t.”

The words stunned her into silence.

He rose, glancing around the wreckage of the chapel. Bodies lay in still heaps, black cloaks pooled around them like spilled ink. The air was thick with the weight of death, with prayers half-finished and songs silenced forever.

Kaelen moved toward the altar, his boots crunching over shards of glass and splintered wood. A faint symbol glowed faintly on the stone—one she hadn’t noticed before. It pulsed, dim but steady, as if it fed on what had happened here.

“What is that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

Kaelen touched the symbol, his jaw tightening. “A mark. The Watchers leave them wherever they spill blood. It is how they track the trail of memory.”

Her skin prickled. “So… they’ll know we were here?”

“They already know.” His eyes met hers, cold and certain. “And they will keep coming. The more you call on the shadows, the louder your presence becomes. Soon, there will be no corner of this city that feels safe.”

Her heart pounded faster. “Then what do we do?”

He walked back toward her, holding out his hand. His voice lowered, firm but not unkind. “We move. We learn. We fight. And you stop pretending you can run from what you are.”

Arin stared at his hand. She didn’t want to take it. She wanted to curl into the corner of this ruined chapel and stay there until the shadows burned themselves out. But the whispers in her veins wouldn’t let her. They curled around her like smoke, like chains, urging her forward.

Slowly, she placed her hand in his.

His grip was strong, grounding. He pulled her up to her feet, steadying her when her knees buckled. For a moment, she hated him again for being so unshaken. But another part of her clung to that steadiness like a lifeline.

As they stepped toward the broken doors, she dared to whisper, “If I do this… if I let this curse inside me… will I still be myself?”

Kaelen didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched until it was almost unbearable. Then he said quietly, “That depends on who you decide yourself is.”

The night outside greeted them with cold wind and silence. But Arin knew the quiet would not last. Somewhere out there, more Watchers moved. Somewhere out there, the crown waited.

And in her blood, the shadows coiled, waiting to answer again.