Kingdom of Yabla Vol.1: Aric Valen's Journey

Chapter 18.5: The Crown's Defiance & Tavar's Desperation

The Crown's POV

For centuries, the Obsidian Crown had sat upon the heads of kings, sorcerers, and fools. It had whispered promises of power and control, fed on ambition, and bent the will of its bearers until they were mere vessels for its magic. The crown was not a tool; it was a living force, ancient and cunning. It thrived on the weakness of men, molding them to its purpose, reshaping their desires into something darker. Every king who had worn it, every sorcerer who had touched its cold surface, had fallen. And the crown had fed on their failure.

But this boy—Aric Valen—was different. He had resisted, and for the first time in centuries, the crown had not been able to bend him completely to its will. Aric was not driven by greed or the hunger for power. He wore the crown out of duty, not desire, and the crown found that it could not manipulate him as easily as it had with others.

Still, the crown waited. It was patient, and it knew that even the strongest will could be worn down. All it needed was a moment of weakness—a flicker of doubt—and it would take control. It had done it before, and it would do it again.

But now, as Aric and Alistair approached the Heart of Yabla, the crown felt something new. The magic in the air was thick, ancient, and powerful. The Heart was the source of all magic in the kingdom, a wellspring that fed the crown's power. It had been bound to the Heart for as long as Yabla had existed, drawing on its energy, growing stronger with each generation. And here, in this chamber, it could feel the Heart's power reaching out, resonating with the crown.

"This is what you were meant for," the crown whispered to Aric. "You are the heir to the Valens. The Heart belongs to you. Claim it, and you will have the power to reshape the world."

But Aric resisted, just as he had resisted before. His will was strong, his mind focused. He was trying to sever the crown's connection to the Heart, trying to strip it of its power. The crown recoiled at the thought. It had never been challenged in this way. Kings had sought to wield its power, but none had ever dared to destroy it.

"You cannot win," the crown hissed in Aric's mind, its voice sharp and insistent. "You are nothing without me. The Heart is mine, and through it, I will control you."

But Aric pushed back, his will like an iron wall. The crown felt the magic of the Heart beginning to slip from its grasp. It lashed out, sending tendrils of dark energy through Aric's mind, searching for any crack in his defenses, any moment of doubt it could exploit.

"You will fall, just like the others," the crown sneered, its voice filled with fury. "You cannot resist me forever. The Heart will devour you."

But even as it spoke, the crown could feel its connection to the Heart weakening. Aric's resolve was too strong, too focused. The boy wasn't trying to wield the crown's power—he was trying to break it.

The crown, once so confident in its dominance, felt something it hadn't felt in centuries: fear. It had always controlled those who wore it, but now, its hold was slipping. The magic it had fed on for so long was being torn away, severed by the very power it had once controlled.

"No!" the crown screamed, its voice echoing through Aric's mind. "You cannot do this! I am eternal! I am—"

But its screams were silenced as the connection to the Heart was broken. The magic that had flowed through the crown for centuries was gone, ripped away in a single, blinding moment. The crown, once a source of unimaginable power, was reduced to nothing more than a cold, lifeless piece of metal.

For the first time in centuries, the crown was silent.

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Tavar's POV

Tavar had always believed in his invincibility.

For centuries, he had wielded the crown's power, bending it to his will, becoming more than a man—becoming something beyond mortality. He had tasted the depths of the Obsidian Crown's magic, seen the possibilities it held, and he had believed that nothing could take it from him.

But now, he was nothing more than a whisper in the shadows.

Tied to the crown, Tavar's essence had persisted long after his physical form had been destroyed. The crown had kept him alive, bound to its magic, feeding off its power like a parasite. He had watched, waiting for his moment to return, to reclaim what was his. Aric, the boy who now wore the crown, was an obstacle—a temporary nuisance. Tavar had no doubt that he would break the boy's will in time.

But then Aric had done the unthinkable.

As Tavar's essence hovered in the dark recesses of the stronghold, he felt the shift. The boy wasn't trying to control the crown—he was trying to destroy its connection to the Heart. And as the magic of the crown began to falter, Tavar's rage boiled over.

"You cannot destroy me!" Tavar screamed, his voice echoing through the chamber. His ghostly form flickered, barely holding together as the magic that sustained him began to unravel. "The crown is eternal! Its power is beyond you, boy!"

But even as he spoke, he could feel the pull of the Heart weakening. The crown, the source of his power, was being severed from the magic that had kept it alive for so long. Tavar had never imagined this would be possible. He had spent centuries mastering the crown, using it to fuel his immortality, and now, in a matter of moments, the boy was tearing it all away.

"No, no, no!" Tavar roared, his voice filled with desperation. "You cannot do this! I am the true heir! I am Yabla's future!"

The darkness around him coiled like a storm, but it was no longer enough to hold him together. The crown's magic was fading, and with it, Tavar's grip on reality was slipping. He could feel his essence fraying, dissolving into the ether as the power he had clung to for so long was stripped away.

"You will not win!" Tavar spat, his voice cracking with fear. "I will return! The crown is eternal, and so am I!"

But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were hollow. The crown's magic was gone, its connection to the Heart severed. Without it, he was nothing. Just a shadow, a ghost of the man he had once been.

For centuries, he had believed himself invincible. He had believed that he could outlast kings, that he could bend the will of the crown to his own desires. But now, as his essence dissolved into the dark void, Tavar realized the truth.

He was nothing without the crown.

In a final, desperate attempt to hold onto the last remnants of his power, Tavar reached out to the Heart, his ghostly fingers stretching toward the glowing crystal that hung suspended in the center of the chamber. But the magic that had once answered his call was silent. The Heart, once a source of infinite power, now pulsed faintly, its connection to the crown shattered.

Tavar's form flickered, fading in and out of existence as the magic slipped through his grasp.

"I am eternal," he whispered one last time, his voice barely more than a breath.

But the darkness swallowed him, and Tavar was gone.