His Bride, Her Revenge-Chapter 93: The Crownless Queen

The aftermath was silence.

Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that clings to bone cold, hollow, and unyielding.

Where moments ago there had been the deafening roar of explosions, the frantic orders of commanders, and the screams of the fallen, there was now only an empty throne room, hollowed out by loss and burnt dreams.

Smoke curled lazily upward, weaving through shattered stone pillars and twisted metal beams. The scent of scorched circuitry and ash hung thick in the air, a suffocating reminder of everything that had been sacrificed.

Maddox collapsed to his knees, eyes fixed on the glowing rune etched deep into the cracked stone floor.

It pulsed softly, a steady heartbeat in the wreckage.

Violet. Familiar.

Cambria’s mark.

But she was gone.

Not a trace left behind not her blade, not her crown, not even a whisper of ash.

Lucien stood stiffly behind Maddox, his hand pressed over his mouth as if to silence the grief that threatened to spill out uncontrollably. His face, usually so composed, was now raw with despair. Evelyn leaned heavily against a broken pillar, her eyes dark and empty as she stared at the rune, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white and bloodless.

"She can’t be gone," Maddox said, voice rough, barely above a whisper. "She wouldn’t leave us. Not like this."

"She didn’t leave," Lucien murmured, his voice breaking beneath the weight of disbelief. "She chose. To save us."

"No," Evelyn whispered, eyes narrowing, voice sharp as shattered glass. "She didn’t choose to vanish. She was taken."

Lucien’s head snapped toward her. "What are you saying?"

Evelyn’s gaze never left the rune. "That’s not a death mark. It’s a gateway seal."

Lucien frowned. "A what?"

"She didn’t die," Evelyn said firmly. "She was transported and extracted by the Crown itself. It must have recognized that the EMP pulse would wipe everything, including her. It activated some kind of emergency protocol."

Maddox’s breath caught, hope flickering like a fragile flame in his chest. "So... she’s alive?"

Evelyn nodded slowly, though there was no joy in her eyes. "But wherever she is now... it’s not anywhere near here."

Hours later, Evelyn and Lucien carefully picked their way through the still-smoking wreckage of the nexus vault. The EMP pulse had fried every line of communication, every circuit, every safeguard. The glass walls were shattered, and the metal melted into bizarre, twisted shapes as if time itself had warped and fractured.

Evelyn’s boots crunched softly on shards of glass as she reached the epicenter of the blast. Her gaze swept over the scorched remnants, the fractured conduits, the fractured control panels, and the melted remains of what once powered the crown’s network.

And then she saw it.

A crack.

Barely visible, thin, and silver, running through the ancient stone beneath the seal.

Not just a crack.

A symbol.

She dropped to her knees, brushing ash and dust away with trembling fingers. The rune embedded in the floor was older than any other mark in the vault. Faint silver runes surrounded it like protective wards, glowing faintly with a light that refused to die.

Lucien approached quietly, voice low. "What is it?"

"Not what," Evelyn murmured. "Where."

She stood, determination hardening her voice. "This is a gate seal. She was pulled into the Crown’s origin realm."

Lucien’s eyes widened in disbelief. "The Eternal Citadel?"

Evelyn nodded grimly. "If the legends are true, that’s where the Crown was forged. And only one person in recorded history ever made it back."

The sound of boots echoed behind them. Maddox appeared at the entrance, breathless but resolute. "Then we find them."

Lucien shook his head, voice bitter. "He’s dead. Died centuries ago."

Maddox’s jaw tightened. "Then we find a way to bring her back ourselves."

Cambria awoke in darkness.

Not just the absence of light but the kind that crawls beneath your skin whispers ancient names in languages you don’t understand, and burrows deep into your bones.

The air was cold, but it didn’t touch her. Her body felt suspended adrift between one breath and the next.

She blinked slowly.

Above her... a sky of stars. Not the stars of her world but white flames frozen in time, flickering without heat.

Beneath her... nothing. A platform of black glass floating in an endless void.

She sat up slowly, every movement a shock to her senses. Her head throbbed with a dull ache. The Crown was gone. Her blade, too. But her body still hummed with the energy of the throne. A faint violet aura flickered along her fingertips, fragile and fading.

"Where... am I?" she whispered, voice cracking in the oppressive stillness.

A voice answered.

"You are in the heart of the Crown."

Cambria turned, searching.

A figure stood at the edge of the platform. Draped in silver robes that shimmered like woven starlight, face obscured by a veil of light. Neither fully human nor fully machine ethereal, watching.

"Who are you?" she asked, voice stronger than she felt.

The figure’s voice was soft and infinite, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. "I am the Memory. The last guardian of the Citadel. And you... are the final Queen."

Cambria rose unsteadily to her feet. "Why am I here?"

"Because you made the sacrifice," the Memory said, voice calm yet unyielding. "You severed the bond between obedience and power. You rewrote the code that has enslaved generations. And in doing so... you awoke the Citadel."

Cambria frowned, struggling to grasp the enormity of the revelation. "So this place is real."

The Memory inclined its head. "It is the origin. The source. The prison and the throne."

"Can I return?" she asked, voice barely above a breath. "To my people?"

The Memory tilted its head, light shifting behind the veil like slow flames. "That depends. Do you wish to return to Cambria Vale? Or as the Crown incarnate?"

Time moves strangely now.

The people of the realm began to rebuild under Evelyn’s reluctant leadership and Maddox’s unwavering commitment. The council that remained of it recognized their rule by necessity but whispered questions filled the halls.

Lucien worked in the shadows, searching for clues. Ancient texts, forgotten vaults, any artifact that might reconnect them to the realm beyond time. Each night, he sat alone beneath the fractured stars, tracing sigils with trembling fingers and muttering lost prayers.

Rumors began to spread through the villages and cities.

Strange visions are seen in dreams.

Voices whispering in the minds of children words in languages long dead.

Of a woman cloaked in violet flame, appearing in the ruins of the Citadel, speaking words in a tongue no one could understand.

They called her the Crownless Queen.

A myth. A legend. A warning.

Maddox, however, never stopped believing.

Cambria stood in the center of the Hall of Voices. Mirrors spun slowly around her, each reflecting a different moment in her life: the laughter of her sister, her mother’s whispered counsel, Maddox’s hand reaching for hers in the firelight.

"You were not meant to rule," the Memory said softly. "You were meant to choose what the rules meant."

Cambria’s jaw clenched. "Then I choose justice."

The Memory extended a hand, the veil of light parting like a curtain. "Then embrace your final trial. And reclaim the throne."

Cambria stepped into the circle of mirrors.

And vanished.

In the mortal realm, deep in the heart of the Valean mountains, a storm gathered.

Lightning tore across the sky, striking the earth with a deafening crack.

When it struck, a crater opened, smoking, jagged, unnatural.

Inside the crater, a girl knelt in a pool of violet light.

Naked. Drenched in rain.

Eyes glowing.

Cambria Vale had returned.

But something had changed.

In her hand was no blade.

Only a single black crown bleeding shadows.