But as the shards fell, they did not fade. Each fragment of the crown burned brighter, scattering across the valley.
Warriors gasped as shards of flame and smoke embedded into their torches, their shields, their hearts. Memory surged—not only in Elira, but in all who endured.
Elira staggered to her feet, eyes wide. The crown was gone, but its power had spread. Every Ashbound torch flared with fire entwined with smoke. Every Emberkin shield pulsed with light.
Marlic's laughter faltered. "No… this is not grief. This is defiance."
Elira's voice rang clear, stronger than before. "You broke the crown, but you freed memory. Grief belongs to all who endure—and together, we will break your storm."
The valley erupted, flame and smoke rising as one. The storm trembled, Marlic's spear flickering. For the first time, betrayal itself seemed afraid.