The sun was sinking when they reached the edge of the old royal road.
Its stones were barely visible beneath the creeping moss and twisted roots, like a forgotten spine buried in the earth. Once, this path had led to the capital of a proud kingdom. Now, it led to ruins and ghosts.
Elara stared at the crumbled archway that marked the entrance. Half of it had collapsed under its own weight, and the crown symbol carved into its keystone was cracked down the center.
Kael stood beside her, sword across his back, eyes scanning the trees.
"Is this it?" he asked.
She nodded. "The ruins of Eldareth. Where the last swan queen fell… and where my bloodline was cursed."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You were royalty."
"I was born royalty," she said. "But when the crown broke, so did everything it stood for. My sister didn't just want power—she wanted to erase our name. To replace it with her own."
They walked beneath the arch.
Beyond it lay the shattered remains of a palace—towers collapsed, walls blackened by fire, courtyards overtaken by thorn and bramble. Time had stripped it bare, but Elara felt it still: the hum of magic beneath the stones. The echo of voices that no longer breathed.
"This was my mother's throne," she whispered. "She died trying to stop what my sister became."
Kael's voice was soft. "You never told me that."
"I barely remember it." Her gaze swept over the ruins. "Because she took that memory too."
A low wind moved through the ruins, lifting ash from the ground. It smelled faintly of burnt feathers.
They reached the center of the courtyard, where the bones of a throne still stood. It was cracked down the middle like the crown above the arch, its back half-melted by the flames of a long-dead battle.
Elara stepped onto the dais. As her boot touched the stone, it glowed faintly.
Kael raised his sword. "Magic?"
"No," she said. "Memory."
She knelt and pressed her palm to the base of the throne.
The world shifted.
The air thickened, heavy with the scent of blood and roses. The ruins shimmered—and for a moment, they were whole again. Stone walls rose, banners flew, music echoed through the marble halls.
And then—a scream.
A younger Elara, perhaps ten years old, running through the hall, her white cloak stained with blood.
Her sister following.
The sorceress wasn't cloaked yet. Not in red. But her eyes—gods, her eyes—were already burning with something Elara didn't understand at that age. Not hatred. Not grief.
Hunger.
She raised her hands, chanting in a tongue older than their blood. The walls began to crack. The throne split.
And Elara… ran.
The vision shattered like glass.
Kael caught her as she staggered.
"She tried to destroy the entire bloodline," Elara said, breathless. "But she didn't finish the ritual. That's why she's still trying. She needs my blood to seal the crown's curse."
Kael helped her steady herself. "Then we break the crown before she can."
Elara looked up at the broken throne. "The crown wasn't just a symbol. It was a vessel. It held the magic of the bloodline—bound to the throne, passed down through heirs. That's why she wanted it shattered."
Kael frowned. "And what happens if someone reforges it?"
Elara hesitated. "Then the line is restored. But so is the burden. And the curse, if it isn't broken first, will take root again—deeper."
A silence settled between them.
"You're thinking of doing it," Kael said quietly.
"I don't want to. But I might not have a choice."
A distant sound echoed across the ruins—like chains dragging through wet leaves.
Kael turned sharply. "We're not alone."
From the shadows beneath the crumbled east tower, something crawled into view. Not a person. Not quite a beast.
A wraith.
Its face was hollow, carved from bone and shadow. Its arms stretched too long, bound in the rusted remains of royal armor. Across its chest, the broken crown symbol was seared into the metal.
"Elara," Kael said, drawing his sword. "That thing used to wear the crown."
"It's what's left of one of the swan kings," she whispered. "Twisted by her curse."
The wraith let out a moaning hiss and surged forward.
Kael moved first, his blade flashing. He slashed across its chest, but the blade passed through like mist. The wraith didn't stop.
"Elara!" he shouted.
She raised her hand—and the mirror shard in her pocket flared with red light. She hurled it like a dagger. It struck the wraith's brow—and the light inside it exploded.
The wraith screamed as its form unraveled. Ash and shadow spiraled into the wind.
Then silence.
Kael looked at the burned spot on the ground. "That mirror shard… it's more than just memory."
Elara breathed hard. "It's what's left of her curse. And it's bound to me."
He stepped to her side. "Then we find the rest. And we end this."
She looked up at the broken throne one last time.
"I'll never wear that crown," she said.
Kael nodded. "Good. But maybe you'll break it."
She smiled—tired, but real.
Then they turned and left the ruins behind, unaware that far above, hidden in the twisting trees beyond the arch, someone was watching.
And smiling.