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Rasa awoke suddenly, her eyes snapping open as the first pale rays of dawn filtered through the cracks in the barn wall. Something was wrong. She could feel it—a chill ran down her spine, urging her to move. She rolled off the hay pile she had been resting on, her gaze sweeping across the dim interior of the barn. Alara’s spot was empty, the cloak cast aside in a crumpled heap.
"Alara?" Rasa called out, her voice low and urgent. Silence answered her, the heavy emptiness of the barn broken only by the patter of the drizzle outside. Panic bloomed in her chest, and she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Alara was gone.
Rasa cursed under her breath. She rummaged through her pack, grabbed her knife, and slipped to the barn door. Easing it open, she peered into the misty morning, her eyes scanning the muddy streets of Vernan. The town still slept, the streets quiet, and only the occasional figure hurried by. Her eyes strained to find any movement, her heart pounding louder with each passing second.
"Think, Rasa, think," she muttered. Then, it struck her—the music. Just before falling asleep, Rasa remembered hearing the distant sound of haunting melodies drifting through the rain from somewhere more profound in the town—the festival—her heart. Alara must have gone to see what was happening at the fortress.
Without another moment of hesitation, Rasa bolted from the barn, her boots splashing through puddles as she moved through Vernan's winding streets. Her heart pounded, fueled by fear and frustration. She couldn't lose Alara. Not here, not now. The Vernanala fortress loomed in the distance, barely visible through the mist. She pushed forward, weaving through narrow alleys and empty squares, her eyes fixed on her destination. Barrels, stray dogs, and slippery cobblestones threatened to slow her, but she pressed on, determination unwavering.
Rasa's thoughts raced. Alara was brave but also reckless. She could picture her friend, her eyes wide with curiosity, drawn to the place they should have avoided. She cursed under her breath again, pushing her body to move faster, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The chill of the morning mist clung to her, each droplet like a reminder of how much time she had already lost. She had to get to Alara before it was too late.
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Alara stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her. People filled the courtyard of the Vernanala, gathering around a central platform. Torches burned along the perimeter, their flickering light illuminating the scene in a strange, almost otherworldly glow. The air was thick with anticipation, which made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The crowd began to hush, their murmurs dying as all eyes turned toward a young man making his way up the steps to the platform. Guards flanked him on either side, warning the crowd to keep their distance.
The man walked with a confident stride, his regal bearing clear in his manner. He wore deep red and gold robes, his dark hair falling around his shoulders in elegant waves. Even from this distance, Alara could see the sharp intensity of his gaze as he reached the center of the platform and turned to face the crowd. His eyes scanned the sea of faces as though he could see each individual there, his presence commanding absolute attention.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and Alara realized what she was witnessing—a coronation. Her heart sank as realization gripped her, the weight of what she had stumbled into pressing down on her chest. She turned to a woman beside her and whispered, "Who is that man?"
The woman gave her a curious look, then nodded toward the platform. "That's Prince Dal’akar. Today, he becomes the new king of Asteria."
Alara felt her stomach twist as she tried to edge back into the crowd, hoping to slip away unnoticed. The press of bodies, however, made it difficult. People jostled and leaned in, all eyes fixed on the young man atop the platform. She found herself hemmed in, unable to move without drawing attention, and a flicker of panic lit up inside her.
The crowd cheered as Dal’akar raised a hand, acknowledging his people. Alara’s eyes darted around, her anxiety mounting. She needed to get out of there—this was precisely the kind of situation Rufus had warned them to avoid. They couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves now or ever. But just as she was about to step back, the crowd's cheer died, replaced by an expectant hush.
Dal’akar’s voice rang out, commanding and confident, though Alara couldn’t make out his words over the murmur of the people around her. She tried to shrink further back, but in her haste, she bumped into a guard standing beside her. He turned, his eyes narrowing as they met hers, and Alara’s heart skipped a beat. His gaze swept over her, his expression hardening with suspicion.
"You," he hissed, grabbing her arm roughly. "Who are you? I don't recognize you from town."
Fear shot through Alara like a bolt of lightning, her mind racing. She had to think fast—an excuse, anything. But her tongue felt heavy, her voice stuck in her throat. She forced herself to breathe, her mind scrambling for anything to explain her presence. But before she could respond, the guard tightened his grip, his scowl deepening.
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Rasa's heart pounded in her ears as she approached the Vernanala. The fortress gates stood wide open, torches lining either side, flames flickering in the damp air. The crowd had already gathered inside, leaving the gates guarded and the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Guards stood along the perimeter, their stern faces giving off an aura of unwavering authority, and a sense of tension hung over the scene like a storm about to break. Banners bearing the golden lion of Asteria fluttered above the entrance, illuminated in the torchlight.
Rasa tried to push her way through, but the gate guards stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"The coronation has already begun," one of the guards said sternly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "No more are allowed in."
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Rasa's eyes darted past them, catching glimpses of the crowd inside. She knew Alara was in there somewhere. She clenched her teeth, her frustration mounting. "I have to get in," she said, her voice tight with urgency. She tried to step around the guard, but he moved to block her again, his armor clinking slightly with the movement.
"Stay back," he ordered, his tone more forceful.
Without hesitation, Rasa suddenly moved, trying to push her way past them. The guards grabbed her, but she fought back, her determination outweighing her fear. She struggled, slipping through their grasp momentarily before another guard caught her arm, pulling her back with a fierce yank.
"I told you to stay back!" he barked, but Rasa was already moving. She lunged at him, her hand going to the knife at her belt, but before she could reach him, another guard grabbed her from behind, pulling her back with a force that knocked the wind out of her.
Rasa struggled, kicking and thrashing against the guard’s hold, but it was useless. The guards outnumbered her, and the crowd shifted away from the commotion as more guards moved in. Within moments, Rasa found herself pinned, her arms twisted behind her back, her knife clattering to the ground out of reach. Her heart pounded furiously, her thoughts filled with Alara—where was she? Was she safe?
Dal’akar, from his position on the platform, turned his attention to the disturbance. His sharp gaze fell on Rasa, who struggled against the guards, her defiance evident. He raised a hand, signaling for silence, and the crowd obeyed, the noise dying down to a tense murmur.
"Bring her forward," Dal’akar commanded, his voice carrying across the courtyard. The guards obeyed, including the guard who had held onto Alara, who rushed to assist them in dragging Rasa up the steps to the platform. Her eyes blazed with defiance as the guards forced her to kneel before Dal’akar. He looked at her with curiosity and annoyance, his brow furrowed slightly.
"Who are you, and why have you disrupted this ceremony?" Dal’akar asked, his voice cold and commanding.
Rasa clenched her jaw, refusing to speak. Her silence only seemed to amuse Dal’akar, who let a faint smile cross his lips. "Defiant, are we? You do realize the position you’re in, don’t you?" He gestured to the guards. "Take her away. I will deal with her later."
The guards began to pull Rasa away, but before they could take her far, she caught sight of Alara, who had broken through the crowd and was about to rush after her. Rasa's eyes locked with Alara's, and she called out and turned back to the king, her voice filled with urgency, "Don't do anything you'll regret!"
The words made Dal’akar pause, his eyes narrowing as if he were considering her warning. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk on his lips. "And why would I regret anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. The crowd held its breath momentarily, uncertain of his next move. Alara understood the true intent, and she froze in her tracks, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. Rasa gave her a pointed look, urging her silently not to follow, before being dragged away, her heart pounding as she disappeared into the shadows of the fortress.
Dal’akar took a moment to survey the crowd, his gaze lingering on Alara. Panic surged through her, her breath catching in her throat as she feared he might recognize or see through her ruse entirely. After a moment, he turned back to the gathered townspeople, raising his hand to signal for the continuation of the ceremony. The crowd's murmurs slowly hushed once more as they shifted their attention to the platform.
Standing to Dal’akar’s left, the herald cleared his throat and began to read aloud from a long parchment, his voice carrying through the courtyard. "Today, we witness the ascension of Prince Dal’akar, the rightful heir of Asteria, to the throne. Under his leadership, may Asteria thrive and prosper. May our lands find strength and unity!"
Dal’akar stood tall, his expression stern yet regal, as a man that Alara assumed was his advisor presented him with the ceremonial crown—a golden circlet adorned with crimson gemstones, symbolizing power and sacrifice. The man, dressed in finely tailored robes of deep blue and gold, stepped forward, holding the crown high for all to see. The man’s voice rang out, reciting the ancient words of coronation, invoking the wisdom, courage, and resilience that Dal’akar would need as the new ruler.
The crowd watched in rapt silence as the man lowered the crown onto Dal’akar's head. The moment the crown touched his brow, the torches flared brighter as if the air around them acknowledged the event's significance. A cheer erupted from the crowd—louder and more vigorous than before—as the new king turned to face his people.
Dal’akar raised his hand, and the cheers slowly subsided. He spoke, his voice resonating with authority. "People of Asteria, today marks the beginning of a new era. Together, we will face the challenges that lie ahead, and together, we will ensure the prosperity of our great kingdom. I vow to protect our lands, people, and legacy."
The crowd erupted once more in cheers and applause, their voices echoing off the stone walls of the Vernanala. Alara, still kneeling off to the side, felt a chill run down her spine as she watched. This man held Rasa's life in his hands, a man with power that could crush them both if he chose.
As Dal’akar turned to leave, Alara felt a surge of desperation. She couldn't let the guards take Rasa away without doing something. She called out, her voice ringing through the courtyard, "Your Majesty!"
Dal’akar paused, slowly turning back to look at her, his gaze filled with curiosity and suspicion. Alara swallowed hard, her heart pounding as she approached the platform. The guards moved to block her, but Dal’akar waved them back, allowing her to step forward. She dropped to her knees before Dal’akar, the weight of her decision pressing heavily upon her.
"Please, Your Majesty," she began, her voice trembling. "My name is Lari. My father died and left me alone, and I have no family. I came here to pledge myself in service to you. I beg of you. Let me prove my loyalty."
Dal’akar regarded her in silence, his eyes cold and calculating. The crowd watched, murmurs rippling through them as they wondered what the king would do. He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Alara's face.
"You pledge yourself to me just like that? After disrupting my coronation? This isn't even the first time tonight that my coronation has been interrupted," he said, his tone laced with skepticism. "Did you not see what happened to the last person who committed such a crime? What makes you think I can trust you?"
Alara bowed her head, her hands trembling as they rested on the cold stone. "I have nowhere else to go, Your Majesty. I swear on my life that I will serve you faithfully. All I ask is for a chance."
Dal’akar studied her for a long moment, the tension in the courtyard thick enough to cut with a knife. Alara's pulse thundered in her ears, fear twisting her insides as she struggled to maintain her composure. She couldn't shake the feeling that he could see right through her lies—that he knew she wasn't just some desperate girl seeking a new life. His gaze seemed to pierce right through her, and she fought to keep her expression steady, her eyes downcast. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Very well. You will serve in my household, under close watch. If there is any sign of betrayal, you will regret ever setting foot in Vernan. Do you understand?"
Alara looked up, her eyes filled with determination. "Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you."
The guards moved in to escort Alara away, and as she was led off the platform, her thoughts were only of Rasa. She had bought them some time, but she knew the danger was far from over. She would have to tread carefully for her sake and Rasa's. As Dal'akar spoke, she acknowledged that he wouldn't remain in Vernan; his place was in the capital. He would likely take Rasa back if he didn't decide to deal with her here first. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her, but there was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, she and Rasa would face it together, even if the guards kept them apart for the moment.