The darkness hissed.
Glowing red eyes opened, not one pair—but dozens. A low rumble echoed through the cavern like thunder in a beast's throat.
Riva reached for her twin blades. "We're not alone."
Kael's voice was tight. "That thing is guarding the melody fragment."
From behind the orb, a creature slithered out—massive and horned, its body cloaked in black mist. It had no mouth, but its roar shook the ground. Chains dragged from its wrists, broken long ago.
A guardian. One bound to the Crown of Ring.
Sha stepped forward, the sliver of obsidian pulsing faintly in her hand. It responded to her presence—just like the temple did.
The creature lunged.
Riva dashed in first, slashing its side to distract it. "Go! Touch the melody!"
Kael followed her attack with a blast of fire magic, but it barely scorched the creature's shadow-like skin. "We can't hurt it! Not without triggering the song!"
Sha stared down at the melody shard in her palm.
> Sing, not with steel… but with soul.
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
Soft. Steady. A whisper of a tune.
A song not from memory—but from pain. From the silence that followed her parents' murder. From the screams she buried. From the years she led the assassins, never letting herself cry.
The shard glowed.
Then blazed.
Suddenly, her voice echoed louder—empowered by the Crown itself.
The guardian froze mid-swing.
Its red eyes flickered.
Kael looked up in awe. "It's working…"
Riva gasped. "She's awakening it."
Sha kept singing—her voice trembling but full. The melody wrapped around them like light, binding the monster in glowing threads of sound.
The cavern pulsed.
The obsidian shard flew from her hand and embedded itself in her chest, over her heart. The light faded.
Silence.
Then… the beast knelt.
It didn't vanish.
It bowed.
Kael whispered, "She's the wielder."
But before they could breathe, Sha dropped to one knee. "It… it took something from me."
Riva ran to her side. "What?"
Sha's eyes were heavy. "My memories… of them."
Kael's hands tightened into fists. "So that's the price. To wield the Crown… you give a piece of your soul."
They didn't notice the small black crystal drop from the creature's claw.
Far above them, on a cliff watching silently, Zev lowered his spyglass. "She did it."
Lira stood beside him, hands trembling.
"She's changing… and we're running out of time."
Zev lowered his spyglass, jaw clenched.
"She activated the first shard. The Crown is responding to her," he muttered, voice lined with guilt.
Lira's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but her eyes were watery. "We weren't supposed to let it get this far."
"You think I don't know that?" Zev hissed. "But do you remember why we did it? Why we turned our backs?"
Her silence answered everything.
They weren't born traitors. They were made.
---
Two years ago…
A hidden village. Snow falling gently over bloodstained rooftops.
Zev had knelt beside his younger sister, her small body cradled in his arms. She was limp, breath shallow. Poisoned by a rival assassin clan—victims of a power struggle the council refused to stop.
"I begged them…" he'd whispered, "I begged the Order to help… and they refused."
Lira had stood over the bodies of her family—slaughtered for protecting a melody shard. The council called it "necessary sacrifice."
That night, the two of them vowed: if the Crown of Ring couldn't be used to protect the ones they loved, then they would take it for themselves—and burn down the throne it served.
---
Now…
"I still hear them screaming in my sleep," Lira said softly, breaking the silence. "Do you think Sha would understand if we told her?"
Zev's face hardened. "It's too late for that."
He turned away from the edge of the cliff.
"She's already the chosen one. If we don't act fast, she'll claim the second shard. And then… we won't be able to stop her."
Below, Sha stood slowly, her breath shaky.
Kael caught her by the arm. "You shouldn't push yourself."
"I had to," she whispered. "It called to me."
Riva frowned, kneeling to pick up the crystal left by the guardian. "Then let's make sure the next one doesn't steal anything else from you."
Kael looked up at the sky. "Next stop… the Whispering Marsh. That's where the second melody sleeps."
Sha nodded, eyes still fixed on the spot where the creature had bowed.
She didn't know it yet—but the Crown had accepted her.
And her voice had just awakened something far older… and far more dangerous.
The wind howled across the jagged rocks as the last pulse of magic faded from the ruins. Sha steadied her breath, clutching the melody shard, its glow now dim but warm against her skin.
"We need to move," she said, voice firm again. "The Crown won't wait."
Riva stood, brushing dust from her knees. "The Whispering Marsh isn't a place you walk into lightly. Legends say the trees hum when you lie."
"Good thing we've got nothing to hide," Kael muttered.
Riva arched a brow. "That was sarcasm, right?"
Kael didn't answer. His eyes were already scanning the horizon, his hand resting near the hilt of his dagger. Sha noticed the way he hadn't let her stray too far from his side since the battle. His concern lingered in the subtle ways—shielding her during combat, watching her when he thought she wouldn't notice.
Sha tried not to think about it.
Feelings had no place in war.
But still... when their eyes met, something silent passed between them. A question left unspoken.
Before any of them could say more, a soft shimmer spread across the sky.
Riva turned quickly. "A message?"
From the shadow of the trees, a raven-shaped spell burst into light, crackling with blue flames. It hovered for seconds before a voice echoed from it—cold and sharp.
"You've taken the first shard. Don't think the rest will be that easy."
Zev's voice.
Riva cursed under her breath. "So they're watching."
Sha narrowed her eyes. "Let them. I won't stop now. No matter who turns against me."
Kael nodded slowly. "Then we head east. The Whispering Marsh will test us all… especially the ones who think they're the strongest."
He glanced at Sha—then away just as quickly.
The ground beneath them shook faintly, a sign that the temple was collapsing behind them.
No turning back.
As they began their descent, Riva slowed to walk beside Sha.
"Do you think Zev ever meant the loyalty he swore to you?"
Sha's jaw tightened. "I think… he loved me in his own way. But fear makes monsters out of men. And some people would rather burn bridges than face their pain."
Riva nodded. "That's poetic."
Sha smiled faintly. "It's true."
High above, hidden in the shadows, Zev gripped the edge of his cloak. His fingers trembled.
"She smiled," he whispered. "She still smiles... even now."
Lira didn't answer. She only looked out at the fading light.
In her hand was a broken music box—the same one she once played for her sister.
It no longer made a sound.
The silence after Zev's warning echoed longer than expected.
Sha stared at the flickering remnants of the raven-shaped flame, her fingers tightening around the shard in her palm.
"He's not bluffing," she said, turning toward Kael and Riva. "Zev never makes empty threats."
Kael nodded, his expression unreadable. "Which means the Whispering Marsh will already be crawling with traps."
Riva crossed her arms. "Let's just hope those traps don't include people we once called family."
The three assassins stood at the edge of the cliff, letting the wind cool the fire still humming under their skin. The battle with the flame guardian had drained them, but none of them would admit it out loud.
They had grown up learning to endure pain in silence.
Sha pulled the shard from her satchel once more. It was warm, still vibrating faintly with the power she had awakened. When she'd sung to it, the melody hadn't come from her mind—it had come from somewhere deeper.
Somewhere ancient.
The shard pulsed again, and for a moment, Sha felt her own heartbeat sync with it.
"She's becoming more connected to it," Riva murmured, watching closely. "It's bonding with her."
Kael stepped closer. "Is that... dangerous?"
Riva shrugged. "Only if she sings the wrong song."
Sha chuckled softly. "I don't think there's a right one. Just the true one."
They began walking, descending the rocky slope that led into the moss-covered forest. The terrain shifted gradually—stones became roots, and cliffs gave way to swampy, soft soil.
They were approaching the Whispering Marsh.
Every legend they'd heard spoke of voices that weren't there… illusions… trials that tested memory, guilt, fear. No one who went in alone ever came out the same.
Kael, walking slightly ahead, paused and turned toward them.
"This marsh. It knows things. Reads you," he said. "When I was a kid, I overheard a council story... They said the trees whisper your sins until you can't stand yourself."
Sha gave him a long look. "Good thing we've all made peace with who we are."
Kael said nothing.
Because that was a lie.
---
Elsewhere…
Zev sat beneath a dying tree, the leaves pale silver under the moonlight. He wiped the blood from his blade, but it was the memory that stained him deeper.
He remembered Sha's laughter.
Not as a leader. Not as the girl chasing the Crown.
But as the girl who once bandaged his wounds when the Order punished him unfairly. The girl who once dared to smile after watching someone she loved be buried beneath stone.
He'd loved her. Maybe still did.
But the Order had taken everything. His sister. His dignity. His soul.
He couldn't allow the Crown to fall into their hands again—not even if Sha held it.
Beside him, Lira sat quietly, her knees pulled to her chest.
She clutched something tightly—an old chain with a cracked wooden flute.
"I still remember their screams," she said suddenly, voice trembling. "Every time I close my eyes, I see them."
Zev didn't respond. There were no words. Only the weight of their shared grief.
They weren't villains.
They were survivors doing what no one else had the strength to do.
Still… when he thought of Sha's eyes—soft but unwavering—he wondered if survival had cost him too much.
---
Back in the Marsh...
The trees grew denser, twisted like frozen screams, and fog slithered between their roots.
Sha paused, sensing something shift in the air. A vibration. Like a whisper not yet spoken.
And then…
"Sha…"
She turned sharply. No one had spoken, but the voice—so familiar—hung in the mist.
Kael drew his blade. "We're in it now."
Riva's dagger was already in her hand. "The marsh is testing us."
More voices echoed.
"You failed her…"
"You let him die…"
"You betrayed them first…"
Sha clenched her jaw. "Ignore it. It's not real."
But as they pressed on, the whispers grew louder. Each of them heard different names. Different regrets.
Sha saw flashes of her mother's face—cold and distant.
Kael saw his brother lying in a pool of blood—because Kael had left him behind on a mission once.
Riva... Riva heard the voice of a girl she once poisoned, a girl who had called her sister.
The marsh wasn't testing their strength. It was testing their guilt.
Suddenly, the fog thinned—and a figure stepped out from the mist.
It wasn't a monster.
It was Kael.
Or... a version of him.
Eyes black, mouth twisted into a grin.
"Are you ready to admit it?" the dark version of Kael sneered. "You're afraid of her. Afraid of what she'll become if she wins."
Kael stepped back.
Sha raised her blade. "That's not him."
The false Kael turned to her. "And you. You think you're strong enough to carry the Crown? You couldn't even protect your sister!"
Sha's knees buckled at the words—but Kael caught her.
"It's not real," he said again. "Sha, look at me. That thing isn't you. You're not your past."
She nodded slowly, and together, they raised their weapons.
The shadows shrieked as their light pierced through—and the whispers scattered like leaves in the wind.
---
When silence returned, Riva exhaled. "First trial... done."
Kael's eyes never left Sha. "You okay?"
She looked up, eyes burning with a new resolve. "No. But I'm stronger now."
The shard at her side glowed again—brighter this time.
As if it had heard her truth and approved.