Heavy Is The Crown

The familiar ruins—the ones that had replayed their existence every night—surrounded her.
The same empty destruction. The same ominous orange sky. The same reflection of herself, twitching beneath the rubble before she woke.

However, Rose didn’t wake.

The dream continued in silence—not the kind that comforted, but the kind that pressed against her chest until she forgot how to breathe.

Only this time, something was different.

Beyond her fallen body, the ruins stretched farther than before, the air heavier, the light dimmer. And just like the first time, a pull dragged her forward.

Dust drifted like ash across the plain, and for the first time, she wasn’t alone.

The force stopped her in front of another skeleton. It slouched against the broken wall of a house.
There was nothing tangible to name it by—no hair, no face, no voice. Yet somehow, she knew.
Maybe because it was a dream.
Maybe because her heart already recognized it.

Jade.

The bones twitched, and a hand lifted toward her—as if to ask why, as if to beg for help.

Rose woke with a gasp. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her brow.

For years, the dream had been the same: the ruins, the silence, the body beneath the rubble. She had grown numb to it.

But this was different.

It wasn’t supposed to change.

Her breath came uneven. A lantern flickered dimly near the edge of the tent, its light tracing soft gold lines across the canvas. Beside her, Kai lay fast asleep, his form covered in one of the sheets he had packed for the journey.

Careful not to wake him, Rose pushed herself up. Her legs still felt weak, her palms clammy. She stepped over him quietly, brushing aside the tent flap.

Cool air greeted her. The horizon carried a faint wash of blue, just enough to chase back the black. The camp lay still—bodies slumped against posts, a few curled under blankets, soft snores drifting from nearby tents.

The fire pit at the center lay dark, faint wisps of smoke rising from where flames had once crackled over deer meat the night before.

Rose stood there for a moment, breathing in the quiet. This silence was different from the dream’s. It lived. It moved.

She started walking, her feet light against the dirt. The air was crisp, the faint scent of ash still lingering from the fire. She followed the familiar path toward the southern gate.

Two guards stood watch. One sat slouched near the gate’s frame, his spear resting across his lap. The other remained upright, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the wall. The standing guard turned slightly as Rose approached, and when he saw her, he gave a faint nod.

“Good morning,” he said—not out of fear, not even out of respect, but out of quiet acceptance.

“Good morning,” Rose returned softly.

“You’re up pretty early,” he noted, his voice low so as not to wake the others. “Everything all right?”

She paused, realizing the sweat on her skin still caught the faint blue light. “I’m fine,” she said after a moment. “Just wanted to walk around a bit.”

The guard nodded. “Be safe.”

Rose hesitated, then asked, “Do you have a place I can gather water? A well or something?”

He glanced eastward. “There’s one outside the settlement. We don’t usually head there until sunrise—easier to see any threats once the light hits. But it’s a short walk that way.”

Rose gave a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

The guard pointed east, and she turned in that direction, the cool wind brushing against her hair. The faint light along the horizon grew a little brighter as she walked—enough to paint the world in shades of quiet blue.

__________

A low murmur pulled Kai from sleep.
Footsteps pressed softly against the morning dirt outside, mingled with hushed voices that came and went.

He blinked, gathering his bearings. The lantern near the edge of the tent had burned out, leaving faint traces of smoke that curled lazily toward the ceiling. Thin slivers of orange light crept through the cracks of the tent’s entrance.

Kai sat up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim. The space beside him was empty.

For a moment, he just stared at it. Then, quietly, he pulled the sheet from his shoulders, folded it, and slipped it into his pack. Rose’s bag lay close by; he slung both over one arm before moving toward the tent flap.

His fingertips brushed the rough wool and leather of the curtain as he parted it.
A wave of cold air met him, sharp enough to bite at his cheeks.

The settlement stirred faintly under the newborn sun. A few figures were already awake, stacking trays and tools near the fire pit, cleaning away the remnants of last night’s meal. Smoke still hung thin in the air, the scent of charred wood softening with the breeze.

Others were only beginning to rise—shifting beneath blankets, rubbing their eyes, or stretching stiff limbs after a long night.

Kai stepped forward, his eyes scanning the quiet, still half-dreaming scene.
Peaceful, he thought.
So different from Amos.
So free.

He walked slowly, boots pressing into the cool dirt, the light spreading warmer across the horizon. His gaze caught a small movement off to the side—a familiar silhouette slipping from one of the smaller tents.

A girl. The same one he had seen the night before, keeping her younger brother close as they were served stew. She looked around cautiously before tiptoeing north, the hem of her tunic brushing the ground.

“Probably heading for the north gate,” he murmured under his breath.

Then he let it go. Not his business.

Kai turned instead toward the south gate, the faint wind tugging at his cloak. 

The two guards that had stopped them yesterday stood watch, speaking idly with their spears pointed upwards. One of them noticed him approaching.

"Morning," the man said as he smiled at Kai.

Kai nodded. "Morning."

The guard shifted his gaze to the two bags Kai had over his shoulder. "Are you looking for your companion?"

"Yes. Have you seen her?"

The guard glanced east, where a few villagers were already out fetching water in wooden pails. "Yes, she asked for the well. I directed her east." His free hand pointed toward the distance. "Just follow that man there."

“Thank you,” Kai replied, stepping past them.

Morning light had grown warmer now; the quiet camp was stirring awake behind him. Voices rose and mingled with the clatter of pots as people started on chores. Kai kept his distance, following the small group ahead until he caught sight of someone returning from the opposite direction.

It was Rose. Her straight hair clung slightly to her face, damp from the morning’s water. Her clothes were mostly dry, though a few dark patches clung to the fabric. She passed the others without much notice—until her eyes met Kai’s. She stopped.

He approached, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”

Up close, he noticed her eyes—faintly red, the kind that came from tears hastily wiped away.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a small smile. Her gaze shifted to the bag slung over his shoulder. “I was just going to get some water… and think about things. Thank you for carrying my bag.”

Kai nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. “We don’t have to stay here, you know. We can leave at any time.”

Rose hesitated, then shook her head. “There’s something I need to do first. I need to ask Sylvia something.”

Kai frowned slightly. “Then I’ll come with you.”

She shook her head calmly from side to side. “I think I need to do this alone. You wouldn’t understand… as a stabilizer. Sylvia is the only caster I think I’ll see for a long time.” Her eyes remained firm on his.

Her tone was gentle, but resolute. Kai paused, the logic of her words settling in. After a moment, he exhaled quietly. “Alright. If you need me, I’ll be nearby.”

They walked back together to the camp. The smell of reheated stew lingered in the air; someone was warming leftovers for the morning meal. Kai sat near the edge of the camp while Rose waited, glancing toward Sylvia who was out and about, speaking to guards and residents. Managerial duties. 

When Sylvia finally showed a moment of availability, she gestured Rose over, who had asked to be seen. Rose stood and brushed her cloak. She glanced over at Kai who hung in silence a ways away. He nodded in confirmation before walking away to make himself useful. 

Rose turned toward Sylvia as she held open the curtains from the inside for her. With a swift stride, she made her way into the tent. 

The tent flap closed behind them.

The air inside Sylvia’s tent was dim, the single lantern casting its glow across the charms hanging from the ceiling. Their reflections scattered faint lights across the canvas walls and the cushions that circled the floor.

Sylvia quietly moved around Rose toward her side of the makeshift desk. Inaudible sounds muffled outside, and for a moment, they simply paused in silence.

Sylvia's hands folded neatly in front of her. “Go on,” she said, her tone calm but curious. “Please, sit.”

Rose didn’t. Her pulse beat too loud for comfort, her breath uneven. She stayed where she was, eyes fixed on Sylvia.

“What are your thoughts on the world?” Rose asked.

Sylvia looked up, meeting her gaze. “The world?”

“The system. The degradation. All of it.”

Sylvia leaned back slightly, her expression softening into thought. “That’s a heavy question this early in the day.”

“I know.”

The older woman studied her for a moment before answering. “I think everyone’s doing their best to survive with what’s left. The world isn’t kind, but we find ways to live in it.”

Rose’s lips pressed together. “You’re not answering me.”

Sylvia’s gaze sharpened, though not in anger. “What are you really asking, Rose?”

Rose’s voice lowered, quiet but steady. “Are you truly fine watching people die? Without warning. Without choice.”

Sylvia froze for a second. Her eyes drifted toward the charms above her, their faint glimmers catching the lamplight. When she finally spoke, her tone had changed—softer, more worn.

“I was tethered fifty years ago,” she began. “To my husband, who’s been gone twenty now.”
She paused. “Before this settlement even existed, we lived far north, in a town called Reiner. Back when the air wasn’t so thick with mana, when beasts haven't reached us yet. We were children when it started to spread. When Reiner fell, we ran south—just two terrified kids.”

Her gaze unfocused slightly, as if watching the memory play out before her. “Eventually, we found this place. It wasn’t much then—just a handful of outcasts.” She gave a faint, pained smile.

Her expression firmed. “The capital called them the Grey-Eyed. People they had discarded, letting their mistakes—‘leaks,’ as they called them—go too far. Their eyes marked them as contributors to what our world has become.” Her fingers tightened together as she leaned back. “At first, they didn’t accept us. But they were the first to show us that we were the same.”

“As we grew older here, we watched people die. One after another. My husband wanted to do something about it. He was never the strongest, but he cared too much to stand still. One day, he went out with the Grey-Eyed guards on patrol. There’d been reports of movement beyond the ridge.”

Sylvia’s hands tightened slightly. “They didn’t all come back. The others said they found spears scattered on the ground, blood leading back toward the fields. He made it to the settlement gate… still walking, still bleeding.”

Her voice thinned. “We tried to heal him. But we couldn’t. I never found out what he fought. I only know that he gave his life to protect the same people who once wanted nothing to do with us.”

Rose’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

Sylvia shook her head. “Don’t be. He chose his path.”

She hesitated, then spoke quietly, hands tightening. “If you ever had the chance to change it all… if you were called to do it… would you do it?”

Sylvia stared at her, silence filling the tent. Her eyes lingered on Rose’s, caught between thought and unspoken answer.

The tent fell quiet. Outside, the morning wind whispered against the canvas.

The silence lingered, heavy and alive.