Page 31 of Infernal Crown (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LYSITHEA

My dreams, I know they’re dreams, are filled with darkness.

It haunts me. The darkness swallows me whole, pulling me deeper into dreamscapes that taste of cosmic forces I no longer possess.

I’m back in the false realm, watching it collapse around me.

But this time, I’m alone. Evren, Dathan, and Verik are all gone, dissolved into atoms that scatter across the void.

I scream, but no sound emerges. My voice, the weapon that once shattered magical barriers and called to ancient powers, fails me completely. The Crown materialises on my head, burning with power I rejected, and the grimoire’s voice whispers around me.

“You could have saved them.”

I try to tear the Crown off, but my hands pass through it like smoke.

Divine power floods through me again, unwanted and overwhelming, showing me every reality where I made different choices.

Universes where I kept the godly power and used it to protect the people I love.

Dimensions where Dathan never died because I was powerful enough to shield him from the grimoire’s attack.

“You chose weakness over strength,” the grimoire continues, though I know it’s been erased, know this is just my subconscious torturing me with guilt. “And they will pay the price for your sentimentality.”

“No!” I scream and reach up again to rip at the Crown. This time, it is solid, and my hands wrap around it.

“It’s yours, my greatest creation. It never left you.”

“What?” I ask, confused, turning around, trying to see the grimoire, trying to yank the Crown off my head. “What is this?”

“The absolute truth.”

I jerk awake, a scream tearing from my throat that bursts the windows outwards.

Dathan and Evren leap off the bed, dragged from sleep, ready to defend me against… my dreams.

Panicked, I reach up and feel on top of my head. As my hand touches my hair, I jerk it back as something lands on it.

“Oh-kay,” Dathan says, staring at the space over my head. “That’s interesting.”

“Is it back?” I demand, but even as I say it, my hand grips the cool metal of the forged Infernal Crown.

“I would say that’s a yes.”

“How?” Evren asks, eyes wide and slightly worried.

“My dream… it was… real…”

“What dream?”

I explain it, my voice shaking as I recount the grimoire’s words, the way it insisted the Crown never left me. “It said the Crown was mine, that it never left me. It called me its greatest creation.”

“Hmm,” Dathan scowls. “Still manipulating even from complete erasure.” He exchanges a look with Evren that makes my stomach twist.

“The grimoire is gone,” Evren says carefully, but I can hear the doubt creeping into his voice. “We watched Verik’s spell obliterate it. And the Crown disintegrated after you brought me back to life.”

“Then why the fuck is this thing back on my head?” I yank at the Crown, but it sits there like it belongs.

“Maybe it didn’t come from the grimoire,” Dathan suggests, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Maybe it’s just... yours now. You did forge it after all.”

“I don’t want it to be mine!”

“Why not?” Dathan asks.

“Because! Because!” I close my mouth and glare at him.

“Because you are lying to yourself that you don’t want to be a god,” he says quietly, sitting down next to me and taking my hand.

“Of course you do. You are free to leave here to go anywhere you choose. We probably are as well. You have immeasurable power, a power of creation that brought Evren back to full life, and probably me as well.”

I stare at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Crown sits heavy on my head, and I can feel it pulsing with power that shouldn’t exist anymore. Power I supposedly gave up.

“I don’t want to be a god,” I insist, but the words taste like the lie they probably are.

“Bullshit,” Dathan says, his silver eyes boring into mine. “Everyone wants to be a god. The power, the perspective, the ability to fix everything wrong with existence. You gave it up because you had to, not because you wanted to.”

“I gave it up to save you!” The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate. “All of you. I chose love over power because that’s what mattered.”

“And we’re grateful,” Evren says quietly, moving to sit on my other side. “But Dathan’s not wrong. You can miss the power and still have made the right choice. Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

I reach up to touch the Crown again. “What if the grimoire’s not actually gone? What if this is part of some backup plan? What if I accept this and that somehow brings Tenebris Vinculum back?”

“Then it happens, and we blow it up again and again, ad nauseam, until it gets the point that it’s not wanted.”

“Dathan!” I whine. “That’s not a solution.”

“Isn’t it?” Evren asks. “Sounds like one to me. Besides, we don’t even know what is going to happen.”

The power thrumming through the Crown feels different from when I wore it before. Less alien, more... mine. Like it’s adjusted itself to fit me specifically rather than trying to reshape me to fit its purpose.

“This means you’re a god again,” Dathan says with a shrug that’s far too casual for the circumstances. “Congratulations?”

“I don’t feel like a god. Not like before. The power’s there, but it’s not overwhelming me. Not trying to convince me that remaking existence is a brilliant idea.”

“Maybe because it’s truly yours now,” Evren suggests. “Before, you were channelling the grimoire’s vision through the Crown’s framework. Now there’s no framework except what you build yourself.”

“I could accidentally unmake reality,” I point out.

“You could,” Dathan agrees. “Or you could not. Free will and all that.”

“Very helpful, thanks.”

He grins, silver eyes gleaming with the familiar mischief that means he’s about to say something either brilliant or something really stupid. Either way, we don’t get to find out as Verik bursts into the room.

“I’ve got it!”

“So do I,” I say dryly and point at the Crown on my head.

He skids to a stop and blinks. “Okay? Where is that fucker? I want another go.”

“It’s not here. At least I don’t think it is. Not physically anyway. It’s a remnant.”

“Remnant?”

“I had a dream,” I explain, trying to keep my voice steady. “The grimoire spoke to me. Said the Crown was always mine, that it never left. When I woke up, it was back on my head.”

Verik crosses the room in three strides, his hellfire eyes examining the Crown with the same intensity he’d give to a structural weakness in a building. “How does it feel? Evil?”

I shake my head. “No. It feels like mine.”

“Then we take this as it was given,” Verik says as pragmatically as he can under the circumstances. “And this means we don’t need to build a bridge between the realms. Saves me a job.”

“That’s just being lazy,” Dathan drawls.

Verik glares at him, naked and comfortable on the bed. “Lazy? I’ve been working my arse off, and you’ve been here fucking and sleeping.”

“Fucking definitely doesn’t constitute as lazy,” Dathan points out. “Not when you do it right.”

“Guys!” I interrupt, gesturing to the Crown. “Back to this!”

“Right,” Verik says, dragging his attention back to me. “The Crown is back. This means you can leave DarkHallow. Your life is not tied to this academy.”

“We think,” I murmur.

“Well, only one way to test it. After I get back from claiming my throne.”