∷ Chapter 52 ∷

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FARRADOR FORTRESS FELL into complete disarray after the king's abrupt disappearance. Though they spent days searching for him, no traces could be found. He'd quite literally vanished into thin air.

After all this time, Clara finally realised the truth behind the king's facade. He was, in fact, nothing more than a pitiful man looking for an escape through selfish means. He disguised his desperation as a wish for a change in the Underworld but the truth was far from it. He could hardly care less about anything that went on in the place he'd spent an eternity loathing.

He could no longer think rationally whilst trapped in the suffocating walls of Farrador and subsequently, the oppressiveness that overwhelmed the Underworld. The only thing he could think to do was leave, and even that wasn't as easy as it would've been to the layman.

Though it was possible to abandon the throne at any point in his life and ignore the irresponsibility of the perceived notion, it was something he could not bring himself to do. He was burdened by the Crown, cursed by the Avero blood, and could not venture beyond the walls until a suitable replacement had been found.

And such was the determining factor in Clara's fate.

With the Elite's disbandment and the king's, as well as Lucan's, disappearance, the castle's inhabitants had no one to turn to save for the next in line to the throne: Clara. But she wasn't quite ready to rule yet, and it was a problem everyone was willing to fix.

The few months since had been nothing but torturous for Clara. Mornings were reserved for attending numerous classes, all of which were supposed to prepare her for life as a monarch. And in the evenings, she had to attend meetings with the royal council, listening to their worries concerning the throne's vacancy.

The court had kept mum about the king's disappearance, and though things seemed fine at the present moment, it could cause problems should word spread of the sovereign's current situation. It was then the council unanimously agreed that Clara, despite her lack of preparedness, should ascend the throne as soon as possible.

The thought troubled her, though she said nothing of the sort. But as the meeting was adjourned and the council started filing out of the room, one of the advisers hesitated, giving pause before saying, "You have nothing to worry about, your Highness. You are an Avero. No one has any reason to doubt you, and neither should you."

News of her coronation and ascension to the throne spread far and wide, drowning her in nerves at the possibility of having the castle surrounded by angry mobs. But nothing of the sort happened. Not a single demon was against the idea of a new ruler; curious as to how the young Avero—whose takes were no doubt different from the generations before her—would alter the course of sovereignty in the Underworld.

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THE CORONATION WAS over in a blink of an eye; Clara's nerves getting the better of her as she all but blanked out during the entirety of the process. Though it was a joyous occasion for all who attended—truly a cause for celebration—it wasn't the same for Clara, as conflicted as she was about the whole thing. It felt as though she had thrown everything away in the brief time it took for the coronation to get underway.

From human to demon; an Avery to an Avero; from a princess to a queen.

She couldn't even call the Surface her home now, lost in the throngs of the Underworld as she were.

But as she stood on the dais surveying those who'd attended as they milled about the ballroom, she could not help the fleeting thought that perhaps it was all meant to be in one way or another. Her gaze landed on familiar faces amongst the gathered demons, her conflicts momentarily forgotten as she suppressed an excited grin whilst making her way towards them.

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