Marcus stood still, every muscle taut, sword at the ready—but for the first time, he didn't know who the enemy was. The figure before them shimmered like moonlight on water, her presence both ethereal and oppressive, like the weight of a thousand forgotten oaths pressing down on his chest.
Erin took a step forward. "Who are you?"
The veiled woman raised a hand, and the air quieted. Even the flickering lights on the walls stilled, as if time itself bowed before her.
"I am the Voice of the Covenant. The judge. The memory. The sacrifice."
Her voice echoed not through sound, but through thought—planting itself directly in their minds.
Marcus lowered his blade slightly. "What do you mean—'One must die'?"
"The pact forged long ago was meant to preserve balance. Between power and restraint. Between bloodlines divided. But now, that balance has fractured."
Erin's eyes darted between the mural and the glowing sword. "We're their descendants. The crowned man and the veiled guardian."
"You are," the Voice confirmed. "Your blood carries the weight of their choice. And now, that choice falls to you."
The hall shifted. Shadows twisted across the walls as the floor beneath them split into two platforms—one beneath Marcus, the other beneath Erin. Both rose slightly, separating them by a few feet.
The Voice gestured to the sword resting between them on the pedestal.
"Only one may take the blade. If both reach for it… the pact shatters. And with it, Ravelle will fall to the chaos the covenant was created to contain."
Marcus stared at Erin. "So it's her… or me?"
Erin's face was unreadable. "And what if we refuse to choose?"
The Voice seemed to ripple with sorrow.
"Then the land will choose for you. And its wrath will not be gentle."
Marcus ran a hand through his hair, heart racing. "This isn't a prophecy. It's a trap."
"No," Erin said quietly. "It's a test."
She turned toward him fully, her voice soft but steady. "Marcus… I think I understand now. Why I've always felt like I didn't belong. Why the old texts called me the bearer of shadow."
Marcus swallowed hard. "You think it's you? That you're the one meant to… rule?"
"No." She shook her head. "I think I'm the one meant to guard the throne. Not take it."
Marcus frowned. "What does that mean?"
She took a deep breath. "The sword isn't for me. It's for you."
"Erin—"
She stepped off her platform and down onto the chamber floor, hands raised in peace. "You were born to lead, Marcus. To change what your father broke. But the throne needs more than power—it needs truth. And I know who I am now. I'm the shadow that keeps the crown in check."
Marcus stared at her, torn. "So I just take it? And we go back to the way things were?"
She smiled faintly. "No. We forge something new. Together."
The Voice watched silently, as if weighing their souls.
Marcus turned back to the sword. It no longer glowed with threat—but with a quiet, waiting calm.
He stepped toward it.
His fingers brushed the hilt.
And then—
A flash of white light surged through the room.
The sword accepted him.
Symbols raced up his arms, golden runes binding themselves to his skin like molten tattoos. The platform beneath him dissolved, and the chamber hummed with a new frequency—less warning, more awakening.
Erin dropped to one knee, the air knocked from her lungs by the force of the spell.
The Voice spoke once more, softer now.
"The heir has claimed the blade. The guardian has chosen service over pride. The covenant lives… not in sacrifice, but in unity."
Then, she vanished.
The sword dimmed, its magic now sleeping in Marcus's hand.
He dropped to Erin's side, helping her to her feet.
"You alright?" he asked.
She nodded, breathless. "Yeah. Just a little… overwhelmed."
He smirked. "You and me both."
They stood in silence for a moment, surrounded by the remnants of a thousand-year secret. The air felt cleaner. The pressure, somehow lifted.
But Marcus knew the journey wasn't over.
"I think we just passed the test," he said.
Erin nodded. "But Ravelle doesn't know that. The kingdom still thinks you're cursed. And I'm still a traitor."
Marcus tightened his grip on the sword. "Then it's time to show them the truth."
They ascended the hidden stairwell together, leaving the chamber of judgment behind. The Crowborn above would be waiting. So would the throne. The lies. The war.
But now, Marcus had the blade.
And Erin, the will to wield shadow beside him.