Famoura slowly drew the Crimson back to herself. "This is the true Crimson," she said, her tone firm, unwavering. "I will not hand it to you here, inside these walls. I want to give it to you before the Tower… the one place where no one can overhear us or steal the ancient language sealed inside."
A flicker of irritation crossed Isabella's face, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She lifted her chin. "Very well. This time, I choose to trust you—because at last, you have brought the real Crimson."
Behind them, Alexander stood bound, guarded by soldiers. His eyes pleaded silently as Famoura turned to glance at him. There was disappointment in her gaze… and a hint of heartbreak. Alexander had once fought by her side, sworn to protect her, sworn loyalty to her kingdom. Yet now he stood as a prisoner—accused of deception, treated as a traitor. Famoura's chest tightened, but she pushed the feeling down. This was not the moment to falter.
Famoura shifted her focus back to Isabella. The Queen was already walking toward the massive entrance, her steps echoing with authority. Famoura followed, keeping a steady pace beside her.
At the threshold, Isabella paused and spoke without turning back. "From here onward, no one will accompany us. Only you and I shall go. No guards. No advisors. Not even the commander."
The soldiers bowed their heads. Even the air seemed to still.
The two of them finally reached the upper level, standing before the ancient Tower. The wind howled around them, tugging at their cloaks.
Famoura: "I want you to use the Crimson wisely… the way it was meant to be used."
Isabella: "And a little girl thinks she can tell me what I should or shouldn't do?"
Famoura: "Then I won't give it to you at all."
She turned abruptly, trying to run.
Isabella: "I knew she would try something like this."
With a cold hiss, Isabella drew her sword, the steel gleaming under the pale sky.
Famoura: "Put the sword down—or I'll pull out every thread inside the Crimson. I'll destroy it completely. Not a single drop of its power will remain."
Isabella froze. Her greed for the Crimson outweighed her anger. Slowly, she lowered the sword, letting it stand upright in the ground.
Famoura darted toward the far side of the Tower. Isabella lunged after her, reaching out to grab her.
Isabella: "Commander! All of you, come up—"
Before she could finish, Famoura clamped her hand tightly over Isabella's mouth.
Famoura: "Not so easily."
Isabella snarled and struck Famoura hard in the stomach, forcing her to stumble back. Pain shot through Famoura's body, but she held on to the Crimson with all her strength.
She lifted it high, showing Isabella she was ready to throw it off the edge.
Isabella's eyes widened. She rushed forward, shouting, "No! Don't—"
She darted toward the falling Crimson, abandoning everything else in panic.
But Famoura stepped aside at the last moment.
Isabella's foot slipped—
And she collided with the upright sword.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped.
Famoura's eyes widened in horror. The Crimson slipped from her trembling fingers and fell to the stone floor with a soft thud. Her breath caught as she stared at what she had never intended—what she had never imagined.
"I… I didn't mean for this to happen…" she whispered, her voice shaking.
The Tower wind howled around them, as if echoing her shock.
Just then, everyone gathers there.
All the people turn to look at Famoura.
At that moment, the minister arrives and bows before Famoura.
Famoura is lost in thought. She looks around, confused, wondering why people are appreciating her instead of trying to kill her. How is this even possible?
Minister: "Our new and brilliant queen is here. Everyone, bow."
All the people bow together.
Famoura: "I'm sorry, but I'm not married, and I am only a princess."
Minister: "You won the war. That makes you the rightful ruler."
Famoura says nothing and quietly walks away.
Old Man: "After that, our Queen Marie was crowned."
Prince Henry: "Come with me, Marie," he says, taking her with him.
On the way, Prince Henry speaks to Famoura.
Prince Henry: "So that's why you were sick last night. I already suspected something."
Famoura: "But I didn't mean it that way."
Prince Henry: "Well, whatever it was… you did the right thing."
Famoura: "Hmm."