The Heir of Ash and Iron

Epilogue: The Iron Crown

The years passed in a blur of paranoia and bloodshed. The prince, now a shadow of the man he had once been, grew increasingly isolated, his court reduced to a handful of loyalists too afraid to speak out. His once-steadfast vision of justice and freedom had turned to dust, replaced by a desperation to maintain control.

In a fit of madness, he ordered the execution of his own son, the child he had fathered with Lyra. Though the boy was barely more than an infant, the prince saw in him the threat of rebellion, a shadow of his own past that he could not bear to face. But Lyra, who had sacrificed everything for him, could not stand by and watch. She smuggled the child out of the palace, hiding him with allies who had once been loyal to the prince.

When the prince discovered her betrayal, his rage was unmatched. He branded her a traitor, ordering her capture and execution. But as he sat on his throne, surrounded by the ghosts of those he had betrayed, he felt an emptiness that no amount of power could fill.

The throne room became his prison, the iron crown his chain. Alone and despised, he clutched the crown, his mind unraveling as he remembered the promises he had once made, the vision of a kingdom he had dreamed of but failed to create. He had become a tyrant, a ruler no better than the father he had despised, and his kingdom lay in ruin.

In his final days, he wandered the empty halls of the palace, his only company the echoes of his past. He spoke to ghosts, to shadows, to the memories of those he had cast aside in his hunger for power. And as he stared at the iron crown, he understood, too late, the true burden of the throne he had claimed.

For the kingdom he had sought to rebuild lay in ashes, destroyed by the very power he had once dreamed of wielding.