The rejected crown (book 1)

The storm's aftermath

Jane

The sun had long set, its last light swallowed by the black smoke that poured from the heart of the castle. The winds, once fierce and chaotic, now seemed to carry only a heavy, suffocating silence. Jane moved through the scorched streets, her steps slow and deliberate, as if the world itself held its breath in the wake of her fury.

The air was thick with ash and the lingering stench of death. The once-bustling village at the foot of the castle now lay in ruins, the people who had come to witness her execution nothing more than smoldering corpses. The laughter and jeers from hours ago were replaced with a haunting emptiness, a quiet that seemed to stretch on forever.

As she walked, Jane's body hummed with the power that had ravaged the courtyard, her magic still crackling beneath her skin like a storm that refused to dissipate. She had become something else today—something they had underestimated, something even Richard had failed to comprehend.

But it wasn't enough.

Not yet.

She had brought chaos to his kingdom, yes. But Richard was still alive. And for now, that was the only thing that mattered.

Her mind wandered back to the balcony, to the fear in Richard's eyes as she had unleashed her wrath upon him. She had wanted to kill him. To end the reign that had stolen her life, her magic, her very soul. But in that moment, with her power coursing through her veins, she had realized something—something that chilled her to her core.

Killing him wouldn't be enough.

Richard had no place in this world anymore. His time had passed, just as hers had. But her thirst for vengeance, for a reckoning that went beyond bloodshed, had only just begun. The storm she had summoned was the beginning, not the end.

She could feel the winds stirring again, tugging at her cloak, calling her toward the horizon. It was a beckoning, an urge to move forward, to leave the ashes behind and claim what was hers.

Her footsteps faltered for a brief moment, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She had shattered the world today. But now, she needed to rebuild it—on her terms.

"Where are you going, witch?"

The voice came from behind her, low and rasping. Jane didn't turn around, didn't even flinch. She knew exactly who it was.

"You're brave to speak, considering what you've just witnessed," she said, her voice cool, distant. She had no need to turn around to face him. The man trailing her was nothing more than a shadow, a remnant of a war that had already begun to fade from her memory.

"Richard's men won't stop looking for you," the voice continued, nearer now. "You've burned his castle to the ground, killed his soldiers. They'll come for you."

Jane's lips curled into a faint smile, but it was empty, like the promise of peace after a storm.

"They'll try," she replied. "But they won't find me."

The man stepped closer, his footsteps muffled by the ashes at their feet. "I know what you've done. And I know what you're planning. But be careful, witch. The world you're about to enter... it's worse than anything you've faced before."

She paused, considering his words for a moment. Her breath came out slowly, a calm, steady exhale that betrayed none of the uncertainty she was feeling inside.

"I've already faced it," she said, her voice sharper now. "I've faced worse. And survived."

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the crackling of distant flames. Then, the man spoke again, softer this time.

"You're not alone in this," he said, his tone almost coaxing. "There are others who want the same thing you do. A kingdom built from the ashes. You don't have to do it alone."

Jane turned her head slightly, her gaze still fixed ahead, her back to him. "You think I need help?"

The man hesitated. "No. But it's harder to fight when everyone's against you."

She chuckled darkly. "I've never needed anyone's help. And I don't need it now."

Without another word, she stepped forward, her figure swallowed by the darkness, leaving the man standing in the wreckage she had left behind.

Her path was clear. She had burned everything that had once held her captive. But there were still pieces to be taken, kingdoms to be torn asunder, and secrets buried beneath the bloodshed that would lead her to what she sought.

Jane didn't look back as she disappeared into the night. But something lingered in the back of her mind—something that whispered of the consequences of her actions, of the forces that might rise against her.

The storm she had summoned had only just begun. And with it, the world would change.

But what would rise from the ashes?

That, she would have to discover for herself.

As Jane moved deeper into the night, her thoughts shifted. The fire of her magic, the hunger of her revenge, had consumed everything. But she knew there were forces in the shadows—hidden factions, long-forgotten alliances—waiting to either bring her down or offer her something she hadn't yet considered.

One thing was certain: the next chapter of her story would not be written in the ashes of Richard's castle. It would be written on the world itself.

And it was far from over.