Crown On My Head

chapter 64

Terrors Peak Lacey

As soon as Bomb left, the tent seemed darker, the shadows longer, as if her warmth had been holding them at bay. I stared into the fire, the flames flickering and dancing in a way that usually brought comfort. But tonight, something was different. The fire seemed to shift, the embers glowing too brightly, the heat too intense. And then, in the crackling flames, a shape began to form—a face.

Arwan’s face.

“You will never succeed, dear little girl,” the voice hissed, low and menacing, seeping into my mind like a poison. His eyes glowed within the flames, dark and malevolent, mocking me. The fire twisted into a sneer, and I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

Panic seized me. My breath hitched, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. I stumbled back, desperate to put out the fire, to banish his voice, his face, from my mind. My hands shook as I scattered dirt over the flames, smothering them until nothing remained but cold, dead ashes.

But the panic didn’t leave with the fire. My chest tightened, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The walls of the tent seemed to close in on me, suffocating, crushing.

I bolted from the tent, not caring where I went, just needing to escape. The cold night air hit my face, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. I kept running, my feet barely touching the ground, until I heard someone calling my name.

“Princess! Princess, stop!”

Lord Harwin’s voice, filled with concern, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t think. The world was spinning, the shadows of the night swirling around me. I didn’t even see Doorlan until I crashed into him, his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me close.

“Breathe, Blue. Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice steady, soothing, as he held me tightly. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his tunic as if he were the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

Slowly, we sank to the ground, sitting there in the cold, dark night. Doorlan didn’t let go, his arms like a shield against the panic threatening to consume me. I forced myself to match his breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body against mine.

I looked up at him, meeting his green eyes, sharp and clear even in the dim light. They were filled with concern, but also something deeper—an understanding, a connection that went beyond words. He was covered in blood, but I knew it wasn’t his. It never was. Doorlan was a fighter, but he was also something more—someone who understood the darkness we all carried, the battles we fought within ourselves. Wherever he has been he is here now. Next to me.

As the panic slowly ebbed away, I became aware of the distant sounds of explosions on the battlefield. Doolan's lips twitched into a small, knowing smile.

“Bomb,” he said, the single word carrying with it a world of meaning.

I couldn’t help but smile back, a faint, tired curve of my lips. “Bomb,” I echoed, and we shared a quiet moment of relief, a brief reprieve from the weight of everything that lay ahead.

We sat there together, the cold ground beneath us, the night closing in around us, but for the first time in what felt like hours, I felt like I could breathe again. Doolan's presence was a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that I wasn’t facing this alone.

Whatever happened tomorrow, whatever horrors the dawn might bring, I knew I had allies—friends—who would stand by my side. And in that moment, sitting there with Doorlan, I found the strength to keep going.