Page 83 of Crowned

I don’t have a choice.

I remain frozen for a moment, staring down at the scroll in my hands. The words blur together, the edges of the parchment curling where my grip tightens. My stomach twists, dread clawing its way through me.

They want me to walk into their hands. Alone.

The weight of the decision presses down on me, suffocating, and yet the path feels inevitable. Every instinct screams at me to stay, to find another way, but what other way is there? If I don’t go, they’ll burn Aerwyna to the ground. Everyone in this room – every mother, child, soldier – will die.

“Malia.”

Vance’s voice is a low growl, sharp and commanding. I turn to see him standing in the doorway, his frame backlit by the faint, flickering light of the torches outside. His armour is battered, streaked with soot and blood, but his presence is as unyielding as ever.

He strides toward me, his eyes narrowing as he notices the scroll in my hands. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, I can’t speak. The words feel like lead on my tongue. But there’s no time for hesitation, no room for secrets. I hand him the scroll, my fingers brushing his as I let it go.

His gaze hardens as he reads, the muscles in his jaw flexing. When he finishes, he crumples the parchment in his fist, his other hand curling into a tight fist at his side. “Absolutely not.”

“Vance—”

“No,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You’re not doing this. I don’t care what the Shadow Legion threatens – they don’t get to dictate what happens. You’re not walking into their trap.”

I step closer, my voice quiet but firm. “I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go, they’ll destroy the city.”

“Then we’ll fight,” he growls. “We’ll defend Aerwyna with everything we have. But we’re not sending you to them like some kind of sacrifice.”

I shake my head, my hands trembling. We’re losing. I can see it in his eyes. The blind fear. “How many more people have to die, Vance? How many more lives are we willing to lose before we try something else? This isn’t just about me – it’s about all of them.” I gesture to the civilians huddled around the room, their fear palpable.

He stares at me, his jaw tight, his expression torn between anger and desperation. “You’re carrying our children, Malia. Do you understand what’s at stake? It’s not just your life on the line – it’s theirs, too.”

The reminder hits me like a punch to the chest. My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, the weight of his words sinking in. My throat tightens, tears stinging my eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Every step I take, every breath, I know. I feel them. And it’s killing me to do this, but if I don’t, there won’t be a future for them. Or for anyone else.”

His expression softens, and he takes a step closer, his hands coming up to rest gently on my shoulders. “Malia,” he says quietly, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

“But I do,” I murmur, my tears spilling over. “Because I’m the only one who can end this. They’re doing this because of me. Because they want me. If I don’t go, they’ll never stop.”

His grip on my shoulders tightens slightly, his forehead leaning against mine. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he says softly. “But strength doesn’t mean doing this alone. Let me help you. Let us help you.”

I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his touch steady me. “Then help me by understanding why I have to do this,” I whisper. “Please, Vance.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. The silence between us is heavy, filled with unspoken fears and heartbreak. Finally, he exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “You’re not going alone,” he says firmly.

“I have to,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

His gaze sharpens again, but before he can argue, the sound of another explosion rocks the palace. Dust falls from the ceiling, and distant screams echo through the hallways.

The moment shatters.

He pulls back, his hand lingering on my arm as he gives me a long, searching look. “Promise me you’ll come back,” he says, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. Because if I don’t say the words out loud, I haven’t really lied.

Vance’s words linger in the air, as I turn toward the doors of the chamber. My legs feel like lead as I move, each step dragging me closer to something I can’t undo. The gazes of the civilians follow me, their fear palpable, but it’s the trust I see in their eyes that sends a pang of guilt straight through my chest.

They think I’m walking toward salvation.

I know I’m walking toward destruction.

The faint murmur of their voices grows louder as I approach the doorway, and I hear snippets of their whispered prayers, their hopes that I’ll be the one to save them. The pressure feels unbearable, pressing against my ribs until I can barely breathe.

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