The Thorned Garden had tested them in ways Selene could scarcely have imagined. Every step had been a struggle against the living thorns, the probing mist, and the shadows that clawed at the edges of her mind. But nothing had prepared her for what lay ahead: the Crown of Ashes.
The path narrowed as they approached the heart of the garden. Towering hedges, black as night and twisted beyond natural shape, flanked the trail. The air was thick with the scent of smoldering flowers and scorched earth, a reminder that beauty could hide danger, and danger could mask knowledge.
Auren led the way, silent as always, his golden eyes sweeping the terrain. The faint silver glow of residual magic in the garden lit their path, reflecting off the edges of his armor and the dark fabric of his cloak. Selene's fingers brushed against the hem of his sleeve. The gesture was small, restrained — and yet, it sent warmth through her chest, grounding her as the shadows whispered warnings around them.
"The Crown of Ashes is not an object," Auren said softly. "It is a trial. One that will reveal our worth — or our failure."
Selene swallowed hard. "Worth… to whom?"
"To the curse," he said, voice tight, almost unyielding. "It judges through fire, through pain, through truth. If we fail… everything we've done, all we've survived, means nothing."
The path opened into a circular clearing, dominated by a pedestal of blackened stone. On it rested a crown — twisted, jagged, and glowing faintly with embers that did not burn but seemed to consume light itself. The air around it shimmered, heatless but suffocating, thick with the weight of centuries-old magic.
Selene stepped forward cautiously, feeling the pull of the crown. It was as if the artifact could peer into her soul, probing her fears and desires with each step.
"This is it," Auren said quietly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "The final test of the garden. One wrong move… and we may never leave this place."
Selene's pulse quickened. "How do we pass it?"
Auren's golden gaze softened, and he gestured for her to step beside him. "Together. The trial requires trust — in magic, in courage, and in each other."
They approached the pedestal, every nerve in Selene's body on edge. The shadows writhed and pulsed around the edges of the clearing, coiling like smoke. Selene felt the thorns underfoot, alive and restless, seeking to entangle her as she drew closer. She steadied herself, drawing on the magic within her, letting it ripple outward like a shield.
"Good," Auren murmured, his hand brushing hers briefly. The contact was fleeting, restrained, yet enough to anchor her as she faced the crown. "Focus. Let go of fear. Let the garden see your resolve."
Selene closed her eyes, drawing in a steadying breath. She let the fear, the panic, and the shadows press against her, then released it in a pulse of magic. Her aura shimmered, a soft silver light radiating outward, blending with Auren's own magic.
The crown trembled. Shadows recoiled. And then, a voice — ancient, echoing through the clearing — spoke:
"Who dares claim the crown?"
Selene opened her eyes to see the shadows forming a figure, tall and imposing, its features obscured but undeniably regal. "We do," Auren said, stepping in front of her protectively.
The figure advanced, and the air shimmered with raw power. The ground beneath them cracked as if reacting to their presence. Selene felt the weight of centuries pressing down, the memories of kings and queens, sorcerers and witches, all converging in this one moment.
"You carry the blood of witches," the shadow intoned. "And you, cursed prince, bear the burden of centuries. Together, you seek to undo what has been bound. Prove your worth, or be consumed."
Selene's throat tightened. She glanced at Auren. His jaw was set, his posture rigid, yet his eyes were warm, steadying, reminding her that they were in this together.
"How do we prove it?" she whispered.
"By facing the truth of ourselves," he said. "By confronting what we fear most — and by standing united."
The crown pulsed, embers flaring. The shadows around them twisted into visions: Selene saw herself failing, unable to control her magic, falling into darkness while the castle crumbled around her. She saw Auren, chained and tormented, enduring centuries of pain alone.
Auren's hand brushed hers, deliberately restrained yet grounding. "You are stronger than your fears," he said softly. "We are stronger together. Trust me."
Selene nodded, letting his words anchor her. She drew in a deep breath, stepping forward, and placed her hands on the pedestal alongside his. A surge of magic rippled through her veins, her aura flaring in tandem with his golden light.
The shadows screamed, twisting violently as the crown glowed brighter. Embers rose like sparks into the air, swirling around them, forming a cyclone of energy. Selene felt her magic merge with Auren's, a tether forming that bound them together — not physically, but in power, in will, and in purpose.
The shadows writhed and lashed out, testing their resolve. Every whisper of doubt, every fear, pressed against Selene's mind. She grit her teeth, focusing on Auren, on the trust between them, on the unspoken bond that had grown through trials and darkness.
And then, with a flash of blinding light, the crown shattered. Ember fragments rained down like fireflies, harmless yet glowing with residual power. The shadows screamed, then dissipated, retreating into the soil, the air, and the walls of the garden.
Selene sank to her knees, breathing hard, her pulse pounding. Auren knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His golden eyes were soft, warm, and unwavering.
"We did it," she whispered.
Auren's lips curved faintly, restrained, almost imperceptibly. "Not yet," he said quietly. "The garden has tested us… but the curse is far from broken. This is only the beginning."
Selene nodded, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. She had survived the Thorned Garden, faced the Crown of Ashes, and emerged stronger. Yet she could feel the weight of the curse lingering, heavy and unyielding.
She looked at Auren, and their eyes met. No words were necessary — the trust, the bond, the unspoken connection between them was enough. He was centuries-old, cursed, and yet deeply human. She was a witch, inexperienced, and yet capable. Together, they had survived what most could not.
And somewhere deep within the ruins of the castle, a faint whisper echoed through the shadows:
"The blood of the witch… and the cursed prince… will decide the fate of all."
Selene tightened her grip on the amulet at her throat. Auren's hand brushed hers again, restrained, a silent promise that they would face whatever came next together.
The path ahead was uncertain, the castle still dangerous, and the curse far from broken. But for the first time, Selene felt a spark of hope — fragile, flickering, yet undeniable.
The Thorned Garden had tested them. They had survived. And now, the true trial of the cursed prince and the witch was only beginning.