Paedyn balanced on a rotting coffin in the crypt, clutching the grimy crown and feeling for the trapdoor. Bloodied and dizzy, she found the frame and hauled herself up, striking her head as a chilling sense of being watched intensified her fear. She forced herself toward the cave mouth, repeating that the terrors were mind tricks, even as the darkness behind felt consuming.

As moonlight neared, three bandits blocked the exit and demanded the crown and her ring. Paedyn feigned submission, extending her hand with the ring, then seized one man’s wrist and drove her dagger into his stomach, killing him. She acknowledged the frightening ruthlessness within herself as she prepared to face the others.

The larger bandit charged; Paedyn ducked and smashed the crown’s jeweled points into his temple, wounding him. The third drew a dagger, forcing Paedyn back. She threw her own blade into his chest, killing him against the wall. The wounded bandit then tackled her, slammed her into stone, and choked her as her vision blurred.

Mustering a final burst of resolve, Paedyn kneed him in the groin, slipped free, and repeatedly slammed his head into the wall until he went limp. Shaking and horrified by her own savagery, she recovered her dagger and the blood-flecked crown, avoiding the sight of the bodies as she moved toward freedom.

Outside beneath the moon, Paedyn laughed raggedly with relief, feeling a faint return of inner warmth after the violence. She set her sights on the long route back through the city to the castle and worried about the time left before midnight, but pushed herself onward, sore yet hopeful.

She resolved that with each step she was closer to becoming queen and to uniting Ilya, carrying the crown she had fought and bled to secure.