Crown of Thorns and Roses

The crown burned against her palms as though it was alive, pulsing in time with a heartbeat that wasn't hers. Its warmth coiled through her veins, igniting a strength that felt foreign yet familiar. For the first time since she had stepped into the forest, Elena felt… whole—and yet more hollow than ever.

Cassian approached her slowly, his silver eyes locked on the crown. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered across his face—a mixture of wariness and awe.

"You hold it," he said softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the silence of the valley. "The Rose Crown."

Elena lifted the crown, its thorns glinting crimson in the strange golden light. Her fingers traced the delicate patterns of the roses, the dark barbs hidden between their petals. It was beautiful. Deadly.

"It doesn't feel like I thought it would," she whispered, her voice thin and distant.

Cassian stepped closer, stopping just a few paces from her. "It never does."

She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. "Is it done? Have I passed the trials?"

Cassian hesitated. "You have proven yourself. The crown has accepted you as its bearer."

"Then why doesn't it feel like victory?" Elena murmured, clutching the crown tighter. The hollowness in her chest gnawed at her, a void that no amount of power could fill.

Cassian regarded her carefully, his silver eyes sharp. "Because power is never the end, Elena. It is only a beginning."

The words unsettled her. She turned her gaze back to the crown, its light dimming slightly, as though waiting for her to make the final decision.

The valley grew quiet again, and the ground began to shift beneath her feet. Cracks splintered through the stone, light pouring up from below. Elena staggered back, the crown still clutched to her chest as the earth trembled.

"What's happening?" she shouted.

Cassian's sword was already in his hand, his posture rigid. "The crown has chosen you—but its power comes with a price."

Another price. Of course.

The light erupted from the cracks in the earth, blinding and golden, spiraling toward the sky like flames. From the center of the valley, something began to rise—a throne of dark stone, twisted and covered in roses. Its roots snaked out across the ground like veins, pulsing with magic.

Elena stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat. "What is that?"

"The throne," Cassian said grimly. "It's calling you."

The throne. She could feel its pull, just as she had felt the crown's. It hummed in the air like a low, steady drumbeat, reverberating through her bones.

Sit upon the throne, a voice whispered in her mind. Rule with the power you have claimed.

Elena stared at the throne, its dark shape silhouetted against the blinding light. It was beautiful in its cruelty—perfect in its promise. All she had to do was place the crown on her head and take her place as its queen.

"You don't have to do this," Cassian said suddenly, his voice breaking through her thoughts.

Elena turned to him, her brow furrowing. "What are you talking about? I won. I claimed the crown."

"And now the throne will claim you," Cassian replied, his voice low and urgent. "The Rose Crown does not give power freely, Elena. It binds its bearer to it forever. Once you take the throne, there is no going back."

Elena's fingers tightened around the crown. "You knew this?"

Cassian's gaze didn't waver. "I knew the choice you would face. And I knew it was yours to make."

Her mind reeled. No going back. The words rang in her head, cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. She looked at the crown, then at the throne. This was what she had fought for. What she had sacrificed for.

Her heart. Her very soul.

And now she was meant to take the throne and rule.

"For what?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Cassian didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

The ground trembled again, as though impatient, and the voice returned, stronger now.

"Sit, Elena. The throne is yours."

Elena took a step forward. The air hummed, alive with the weight of the choice before her. She could feel the magic pressing in on her, urging her forward.

You wanted this, she reminded herself. You fought for this.

But something in her hesitated.

Her gaze flicked back to Cassian. He stood there, silent, watching her with those silver eyes that seemed to see everything. For the first time, she wondered what his sacrifice had been—what he had given up when he walked this same path.

"Cassian," she said quietly. "What happens to me if I sit?"

He hesitated, as though the words pained him. "The crown will make you strong, but it will strip away everything that remains. Your heart, your freedom—it will bind you to the throne's will. You will become its queen… and its prisoner."

Her throat tightened. "Then what's the point?"

"That is the question every bearer must answer," Cassian replied softly.

The ground rumbled again, louder this time. Elena looked at the throne, its dark beauty beckoning her. She could almost see herself sitting there, the crown gleaming atop her head, power coursing through her veins.

And yet…

You will lose everything, a small voice whispered in her mind.

Her heart. Her freedom. Her humanity.

Elena closed her eyes, memories flashing through her mind. Her village in flames. Her mother's voice calling her name. The trials she had faced. The emptiness in her chest that no crown could ever fill.

She opened her eyes and looked at the crown in her hands.

And then, slowly, she turned to Cassian. "I can't do it."

Cassian's expression didn't change, but she thought she saw the faintest glimmer of relief in his eyes. "Then leave it," he said.

The voice in her mind howled in rage, the ground trembling so violently that she could barely stay on her feet.

"Leave it?" Elena shouted over the noise. "What happens to the crown?"

"It stays," Cassian replied. "The crown doesn't disappear, Elena. It waits for another."

Elena hesitated, her chest tight. Someone else will come. Someone else will suffer.

"Then what was the point of all this?" she asked, her voice cracking.

Cassian stepped closer, his gaze steady. "The point was to show you that you are not bound by the crown's will. Power is not freedom. It's a choice."

Elena looked at the crown one last time, its glow flickering as though it knew she was rejecting it.

"I don't want it," she whispered.

With trembling hands, she placed the crown back on the pedestal. The moment it left her fingers, the ground went still. The light dimmed. The throne cracked, its magic fading into silence.

The valley exhaled, as though releasing a breath it had held for centuries.

Elena stumbled back, her chest heaving. She looked at Cassian, tears pooling in her eyes. "I gave up everything for this. My heart… my—"

"And yet you are free," Cassian said gently, his voice soft as a whisper. "That is something no crown could ever give you."

She looked away, the hollowness still gnawing at her. Freedom. It felt both like a gift and a curse.

Cassian stepped beside her, his presence steady. "Come. It's time we left this place."

Elena nodded slowly, turning her back on the throne and the crown. She didn't look back as they walked away, though she felt its pull lingering behind her like a shadow.

She had chosen.

And for better or worse, she would live with it.