CHAPTER 0: PROLOGUE
The Inverted Crown.
Some weapons kill.
Some decide who you are allowed to become.
The Inverted Crown was never meant to end wars. It was made to silence miracles.
A relic of strange metalwork and imperial fear, it bound those whose power bent reality too easily mages whose very existence threatened the fragile order of the world.
Lady Nerrisa was the first to shape it.
Against those whose strength rivaled stars, whose wills refused chains, she crafted a crown that did not rest lightly on the head it pressed down, bending ascent into submission.
Metal that remembered. Bands that whispered. A prison so elegant it could be mistaken for regalia.
Some call it a curse.
Others call it a gift from the God Emperor, a tool to preserve balance in a universe addicted to excess.
Both are wrong.
The Crown blesses nothing. Damns nothing. It simply claims.
Whether it becomes salvation or ruin depends entirely on the one who wears it.
And yet, no matter how quietly it restrains, no matter how merciful it pretends to be, one truth endures across every age:
To be powerful and forbidden to wield that power.
To be infinite and trapped.
What sorrow could be greater than to become a slave to your own divinity?
The Crown waits.
Upside down.
Patient.
Hungry.