Perfect — I understand what you're asking
The crown pulsed in its box like a living heart, its whispers swelling until they became a roar in Laina's mind. She couldn't fight them anymore. She opened the box.
Light spilled out—golden at first, then black as ink. In its reflection, she no longer saw just herself. She saw them.
A young woman stood in a sunlit courtyard, her hair dark as raven feathers, her eyes gentle yet silent. She was beautiful but voiceless; she spoke only with her hands. Beside her stood a tall man draped in royal silks—a king, his crown glinting like fire. They were her parents. Hundreds of years ago.
Laina felt the memories like they were her own. Her mother had been born mute but carried an ancient power inside her—one that drew the king to her. Despite their differences, they fell in love. Their reign was full of warmth, laughter, and light. They were immortal then, bound to each other by the crown's ancient magic, and for centuries they ruled a kingdom that knew no decay.
But then came Nareth, the devourer of kings—a being of shadow and hunger. Nareth had been a high priest once, a man obsessed with forbidden rites. When denied access to the crown, he traded his soul for darkness and became something else. His name was forgotten in most tongues, replaced only with titles: The Hollow One, The King-Eater, The Unseen Hunger.
Laina watched through the crown's vision as Nareth crept into their kingdom. He captured her mother's spirit first, corrupting the threads of immortality woven into her blood. Without her mother's power, her father's immortality began to crumble. Their bodies aged, their magic thinned.
And yet, before the curse could consume them, they made a desperate choice: they would bring forth a child—one not fully bound by their immortal blood but strong enough to wield the crown without losing herself. A child who could protect it from Nareth.
That child was Laina.
The vision blurred. She saw her mother taken in chains of black fire, screaming silently as the dark magic burned her soul. She saw her father bleeding on the steps of the throne room, holding the crown to his chest as Nareth's shadow rose over him.
And then—everything shattered.
Laina gasped, clutching the crown. Her flesh burned as black lines spiraled up her arms, crawling toward her heart. She felt something rushing into her—power, cold and ancient, like the touch of a storm. Her body glowed faintly. The crown was restoring her, stitching her into the bloodline that had been broken.
In that moment she understood:
Her parents weren't truly dead. They were trapped—her mother in Nareth's dark realm, her father bound between worlds, waiting for the crown's heir to awaken.
The whispers swelled until they formed words:
"Daughter of the Broken Throne… protect what is ours.
Nareth rises again. He seeks the crown."
The air around her dimmed. Shadows pooled at her feet, then slithered toward the window as if fleeing something approaching.
Laina's heartbeat slowed. She could feel Nareth's presence now—faint but growing, like a storm on the horizon. The devil her parents had feared was no longer a story from the past. He was coming.
She held the crown tightly and whispered, "I will protect you. I will protect them."
For the first time, the crown's voice softened, almost like a parent's. Then rise, heir of the undying. The hunt begins.
Outside, thunder rolled, though the sky was clear.
This Chapter 8 directly answers your parents' story and names the devil (Nareth).
It also flows naturally from Chapter 7's end, where the crown's whispers began to grow stronger.