CHAPTER 1463: STORY 1463: GLASS CROWN

The Monarch’s triple scream pressed against the marrow of the tower until the air itself seemed to split. Every shadow bent toward Mira, drawn like iron to a magnet. She floated inches above the rubble, her body rigid, veins shining as if molten light had replaced her blood.

Above her head, shards of crystal and bone drifted together, assembling into a jagged crown. Each piece slotted in with a sound like teeth grinding, a coronation forged from ruin.

Elena staggered backward, shielding her eyes from the glare. “Mira! Fight it! Don’t let it—”

But Mira’s mouth opened, and the Monarch’s voice poured through her lips, layered with her own:

“Through the crown, the vessel reigns. Through the vessel, the marrow sings.”

The twisted creatures around them bowed low, their hollow chests splitting to release more blue dust. The particles swirled upward, feeding the crown until it gleamed with a terrible brilliance. With each addition, Mira’s form hardened, skin turning translucent, her bones shining through like fractured glass.

“No...” Elena whispered, clutching her shard-blade so tightly it cut into her palm. Blood slicked the hilt, but she didn’t let go. “You’re not a crown. You’re not a weapon. You’re Mira!”

For an instant, the blue fire in Mira’s eyes dimmed. Her lips trembled. “Elena... it hurts...” The words were her own, cracked and fragile.

Elena surged forward, pressing the blade against Mira’s chest, directly over the throbbing shard embedded there. Her hands shook violently. If she drove it in, she could shatter the shard—maybe kill Mira, maybe collapse the gate.

But Mira’s body convulsed before she could act. Her veins pulsed brighter, wrapping around the blade like tendrils of living glass, refusing the strike. The Monarch’s three skulls lowered, jaws wide, hissing.

“Strike, and the marrow spills. The gate drinks all. None survive.”

The chamber shook so violently that the spires above collapsed, crushing the lesser creatures but leaving Mira untouched. Dust and ichor filled the air. Elena coughed, barely able to breathe, tears streaking through the grime on her face.

Mira’s body jerked upright, suspended by unseen force. The crown of glass and bone slammed down onto her head, embedding itself in her skull. She screamed—not only in pain, but in resonance, her cry harmonizing with the Monarch’s. The sound was unbearable, like steel tearing through bone.

Elena clamped her hands over her ears, screaming too, not in harmony but in defiance. “Don’t you dare take her from me!”

The gate behind them flared open, its edges dripping light like blood. From it, shapes began to emerge—vast, skeletal silhouettes too large for the chamber, forcing reality itself to bend as they tried to crawl through.

Mira lowered her gaze to Elena. Her eyes were no longer human—twin shards of blue crystal—but a single tear still cut down her cheek.

“Elena,” she whispered, voice trembling beneath the Monarch’s weight. “Run.”

The Monarch’s voices rose together in triumph.

“The Vessel is crowned. The marrow reign begins.”