The chamber's golden light throbbed in rhythm with the shard. Carlos felt it drag him forward, deeper into the column's glow, until his companions blurred behind him. He tried to call out, but his voice broke apart in the air like smoke. The warmth of the shard surged through his arm, burning and numbing at once.
When he blinked, the crystalline hall was gone.
He stood upon a vast balcony of black stone, looking out over a city that spread for leagues in every direction. The buildings shimmered with spires of obsidian and gold, glowing with the same veins as the Heart-Spire. Crowds thronged the streets below, thousands upon thousands of people kneeling as one, their voices raised in a single chant.
His name.
"Carlos."
The sound rolled through the air like thunder, reverent and unyielding.
Carlos staggered back a step. His chest heaved, yet part of him swelled at the sight — the sheer weight of devotion, the awe in their eyes.
"You see," a voice whispered beside him.
He turned. A figure cloaked in shadow stood nearby, its shape fluid, its face indistinct save for gleaming eyes. Yet when it spoke, it used his voice, pitched lower, stronger, unquestionable.
"This is what you could be. No longer hunted, no longer doubted, no longer bound by the failures of others. Here, you rule. Here, you make the laws. And no one will ever threaten those you care for again."
Carlos's hand twitched toward the shard. It pulsed brighter, reshaped in his palm into a scepter crowned with light. The crowd roared, their chant swelling into frenzy. He lifted the weapon without meaning to, and the people bowed lower still.
He should have dropped it. But the weight of it felt natural in his hand, as though it had always belonged to him.
The Coronation
The shadow led him into a great hall, vast and glittering, with a throne carved from the Heart-Spire itself. Soldiers lined the walls in gleaming armor, banners fluttered from unseen winds, and a crown of flame floated above the throne.
As he approached, the soldiers slammed their spears against the stone in perfect rhythm. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Carlos's heart matched the beat.
The shadow gestured to the throne. "Sit. Accept what is yours. A realm awaits its king."
Carlos hesitated. His throat was dry, his palms slick despite the scepter's glow.
"What happens if I refuse?" he rasped.
The shadow tilted its head, the echo of a smile in its formless face. "Then another will take your place. The Spire does not wait. It remembers. It chooses. You have been chosen."
The crown lowered, inching closer to his brow. He could feel its heat, the promise of command searing his skin.
For a moment, he imagined it: ending the endless wandering, binding realms together under his name, protecting his friends not as equals but as subjects beneath his protection. They would be safe. Always safe. Because none would dare challenge the ruler of realms.
The temptation gnawed at him.
The Price Revealed
Then he heard it: a sound that cut through the crowd's roar.
A cry.
Carlos turned, and the scene wavered. At the far end of the hall, chains dragged across the floor. His companions were forced inside by armored guards — Thalor bruised and bleeding, Rina bound at the wrists, Lys with her bow snapped in half, Maren pale and gagged with a strip of cloth.
"No…" Carlos whispered. He lurched forward, but the shadow barred his path with a sweep of its hand.
"They are not prisoners," it said calmly. "They are offerings. You cannot protect everything, Carlos. But as king, you can decide what survives. Their loyalty binds them to you, but loyalty can also be weight. Would you be dragged down by their flaws… or lifted higher by their sacrifice?"
The chains clattered as the guards forced his companions to kneel before the throne. Their eyes met his. Not pleading — never that — but searching. Questioning.
The crown's heat pressed harder against his brow. The scepter's light dug into his palm. He could end it all here. Ascend. Rule.
All it would cost was them.
The Breaking Point
His breath came ragged. The roar of the crowd built into a storm. His shadow-self leaned close, its whisper a blade in his ear.
"You cannot save them. You have never truly saved anyone. But as king, you can save the world. Let them go. Let them be the price. Take the throne. Take your destiny."
The soldiers raised their spears above his companions' backs. Carlos's stomach twisted. His mind screamed at him to act, to stop them — yet the weight of power was intoxicating. The shard throbbed like a living heart in his grasp.
He closed his eyes. Saw flashes of the journey: Thalor's steady shield raised over him, Lys's arrows striking shadows he never saw, Rina's laugh even in despair, Maren's light holding back the dark. They weren't perfect. None of them were. But they had chosen to stand beside him, not beneath him.
And that choice mattered more than any crown.
He dropped the scepter.
It clattered against the stone and shattered into fragments of light.
The crown above him screamed as it dissolved into ash. The throne cracked, collapsing inward, the hall buckling around him. The crowd's roar turned to shrieks of rage. The shadow reeled back, its form unraveling into smoke.
"You are a fool!" it howled in his own voice, warped and furious. "Without power, you are nothing! Without sacrifice, you are weak!"
Carlos shouted back, voice raw but firm. "Without them, I am already lost!"
The vision shattered like glass.
Return to the Heart
Carlos gasped, stumbling back into the crystalline chamber. His companions stood before him, unharmed, though their faces were pale with concern.
Rina's eyes narrowed. "You looked… gone. Like you were somewhere else entirely."
Carlos's hand shook as he raised the shard. It was dimmer now, its glow subdued, but still alive. He stared at it with a mix of fear and relief.
"I was offered everything," he said softly. "A crown. A throne. The world. All I had to do was let go of you."
Thalor grunted, his voice rough but certain. "And you didn't. That's what matters."
Maren touched his arm gently. "The Spire is testing us. Temptation as much as trial. If you resisted… then it means you're stronger than it wants you to believe."
Carlos managed a faint smile, though the weight of what he had seen lingered like a scar. He knew now what the shard could make him. What it wanted to make him.
And he knew he would have to resist it again.
The walls pulsed once more, and the golden light shifted, focusing now on Thalor. The air thickened, the pulse quickening like a drumbeat aimed at the warrior alone.
Carlos steadied himself, nodding grimly. "It's not done with us. Thalor… it's your turn."