Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 100: Coronation of Blood

The twisting corridors of the volcano blur around us as Bloodbane and I race through the labyrinth, our forms shifting into swirling clouds of red mist. The air thickens with heat, tasting of sulfur and ash, yet the exhilarating rush of having our powers restored courses through me, a reminder of the angel’s blessing. We twist and turn through the stone passages, ascending ever upwards, the distant sound of music and cheering growing louder with

each moment.

“It’s like the world’s celebrating while we’re trying to save it, I think, the bitter irony gnawing at my mind as we soar past shouting guards and startled

sentries.

We momentarily solidity, weapons manifesting in our hands. I grip my blood dagger tightly, slashing at the guard before me, feeling the blade slice through his flesh, a flash of red and gold staining my vision. Beside me, Bloodbane dispatches another with a mace forged from his blood, his movements quick and efficient. We don’t pause, shifting back into our mist forms, darting forward at breakneck speed.

The sound of distant celebration fills the air, a jarring contrast to the turmoil within me. “The coronation,” I realise, the thought like a punch to the gut. “It’s happening right now.”

The noise swells as we approach the source, bursting into the massive throne room, its stone ledges packed with courtiers, their finery gleaming in the fiery glow. The black volcanic stone reflects the light from the lava flows below, casting the entire chamber in a blood–red hue. We solidify on a high ledge overlooking the dias, unnoticed amidst the crowd’s jubilation.

My eyes sweep over the scene below, spotting Pyra on the platform, her silhouette framed against the pulsing glow of the volcanic chasm. A fire wraith priest stands at her side, his robes a deep red, his face solemn. The black stone throne looms behind them, its dark, menacing presence a stark contrast to the cheers and applause echoing through the chamber.

The chamber reverberates with the jubilant cries of courtiers and guards, their cheers mingling with the roaring sound of molten lava bubbling beneath the throne room. Pyra stands before the black stone throne, her figure silhouetted against the searing glow of the volcanic heart. The dark–robed priest approaches her, his face partially obscured by the cowl pulled low over his brow.

He raises the crown, its golden flames dancing in the light, shimmering like living fire. Pyra’s gaze flickers between the priest and the jagged crown in his hands, her golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and uncase.

“For centuries, our people have waited for the return of our rightful heir,” the priest intones, his voice echoing through the chamber, laden with reverence. “Today, we crown Pyra Flamebore, daughter of Cinderfell Glowforge, as our new queen. May she lead us into a new era, one of power and prosperity.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, their applause resounding through the cavernous space. The priest steps forward, poised to place the crown atop Pyra’s

head.

“The Fire Angel said Pyra is in imminent danger,” I think, my brow furrowing. “But I don’t see anything to be alarmed about,”

Then, mere seconds before the priest lowers the crown to Pyra’s head, a sudden harpoon of fire streaks through the air, arcing down towards Pyra. My breath catches, my body tensing, but before I can react, she raises her hand, her golden eyes lifting to the sky as the crown falls to the ground, clattering against the volcanic stone. The weapon forged of fire fizzles out into a cloud of ash, drifting harmlessly through the air.

Pyra rises from the throne, the golden crown lying at her feet, her gaze fixed on the direction of the attack, her face calm, resolved. The crowd falls silent, the music stopping abruptly, all eyes turning to follow her stare. A commotion erupts on one of the stone ledges, murmurs of shock and confusion rippling through the assembly.

Pyra watches, her expression unreadable, the tension thickening as we wait, breaths held. The minutes stretch into an eternity, the silence oppressive until there is a short commotion on one of the balconies. There is the sound of a brief scuffle, a fight, muffled screams, and then, silence, Moments later, a glowing fireball emerges from the ledge, drifting down towards the throne. It lands gracefully on the platform, solidifying into Prince Vulcan, his golden armor glinting ominously in the flickering light.

My skin prickles as my eyes land on the grisly sight in his hands: two severed heads, their coppery strawberry blonde hair tangled, faces frozen in horror, golden blood dripping from their gaping necks.

of his parents.

The heads of the former king and queen. The heads of his parents.

Vulcan kneels before Pyra, holding the heads aloft like trophies. For you, my Queen,” he declares, his voice ringing through the chamber. “A gift to

signify the dawn of your reign.”

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Bloodbane, his face pale, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief.

Pyra’s face is a mask of stone, her golden eyes gleaming. She accepts Vulcan’s offering with a nod, her gaze hardening. The time for change has come,” she declares, her voice carrying over the crowd. “A new era for our people begins now.”

The courtiers roar their approval, their cheers reverberating off the cavernous walls. My mind spins, the grotesque spectacle of Vulcan’s act a twisted mockery of celebration.

Vulcan stands, presenting the severed heads of his parents to Pyra, their golden blood dripping onto the stone platform. “I thwarted their assassination attempt, he declares, his voice a triumphant proclamation. “I stood right beside them, saw my father release the harpoon of fire. They wanted you gone, so they could cling to power. But I believe in allowing the rightful heir to take her place.”

Pyra’s face remains unreadable, her golden eyes flickering with a restrained intensity. “I thank you for your loyalty, Lord Vulcan,” she says, her voice calm but cold, emphasizing the title as if to remind him of his demotion.

“Lord Vulcan?” he sneers, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. “You will address me as King Vulcan, or Your Highness, or perhaps my love if you prefer,” he adds, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Pyra’s brow furrows, confusion flitting across her face. Then, Vulcan’s voice rises, projecting across the chamber, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. “Have I not proven myself with this heroic feat?” he proclaims, “I invoke the right of the Fire Forged Ascension, doubly earned by me!”

The crowd stirs, murmurs of confusion rippling through the throngs. The black–robed priest steps forward, silencing the whispers with a gesture. The Fire Forged Ascension is an ancient rite, a law of our people,” he begins, his voice gravelly like old coals. “A fire wraith of royal lineage who slays the current ruler out of justice or for the greater good may take the throne. And the law states that a king must have a queen, and a queen must have a king, to rule together in a marriage bond within a fortnight of their coronation. It is clearly divine will that Vulcan and Pyra should be wed,” he intones, his gaze shifting to the pair.

A wave of horror flickers through Pyra’s eyes, her face faut. Beside me, Bloodbane clenches his fists, tension rippling through his body.

“Now is not the time,” Pyra says, her voice tight. These matters can be discussed later.”

“But the people are all gathered for a celebration, Vulcan counters, his smile widening as he sidles closer to her, throwing his parents‘ heads at her feet. “We even have the priest, ready to perform the rites. Why not combine the wedding ceremony with the double coronation? Is that not what you want, my people? A joyous celebration! Today, you gain not just a new queen, but a new king as well!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, their jubilation ringing through the chamber. Pyra’s face pales, her eyes darting around, her posture rigid and cornered.

I lean in, whispering to Bloodbane, “And I can guess how long it would take for some horrible accident to befall the new queen, so that they’re left with just a king,“ my voice is cold, my gaze fixed on Vulcan, my mind racing. This is the threat the angel warned us about. Vulcan’s behind it all— the flaming harpoon, framing his parents. He’s planning to kill Pyra and secure his power.”

Bloodbane’s face darkens as he nods in agreement, his jaw tightening. “We need to act, Arianna. Now.”

A reckless plan is taking shape in my mind. “Let’s crash this coronation.”

Chapter Comments

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