Chapter 3: The Weight of the Crown

The heavy oak doors of the dining hall closed behind King Alex with a resounding thud. The frost Eira had unleashed still clung to the floor, faintly shimmering under the dim candlelight. He lingered for a moment, his heart pounding harder than he cared to admit. The image of his daughter’s fierce, swirling red-and-blue eyes haunted him, a sharp contrast to the calm, serene blue he had known since her birth. He wanted to dismiss it as a momentary lapse, a fleeting loss of control—but deep down, he knew it wasn’t. Eira’s powers were evolving, and they terrified him.

Alex paced the royal chambers long into the night, his thoughts like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The kingdom’s history whispered through his mind—cautionary tales of those with powers beyond comprehension. He had always believed he could shield Eira from that legacy, keeping her fragile and obedient. But tonight had shattered that illusion. She was far stronger than he had imagined, and the fear he felt wasn’t just for himself—it was for the kingdom.

When Nanny Samantha appeared in his mind, the memory of her gentle protests stung like a slap. He hated the decision to banish her, knowing it had broken whatever fragile trust remained between him and Eira. But Samantha had encouraged Eira’s independence, her defiance, even indirectly fueling the confidence to unleash her powers. To Alex, her presence had become a threat, a catalyst for something far beyond his control.

In the days that followed, Alex kept his distance from Eira, ensuring she was watched but never approaching her himself. The sight of her haunted him too deeply. Instead, he convened with his advisors in secret. Whispered strategies filled the air—how to contain her powers, how to suppress her growing strength. One advisor even suggested seeking out the man who had approached Callen, a shadowy figure with knowledge of those “born outside the natural order.” But the thought of aligning with such a man made Alex’s skin crawl. He had already lost Callen to those whispers of darkness, and he feared losing Eira too.

Guilt ate away at Alex in the quiet hours of the night. He didn’t understand why he was so afraid of his daughter, why every display of her power filled him with dread rather than awe. He had told himself it was for the kingdom’s safety, but part of him knew it was more personal. Eira’s strength reminded him of his own failures, the cracks in his reign, the decisions he regretted but couldn’t undo.

One night, as the moonlight poured into the royal chambers, Alex stood at the window overlooking the frozen expanse beyond the palace walls. His reflection in the glass seemed more a stranger than a king. He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the stillness, “I banished the one person who truly cared for her. And for what? To protect this crown? Or my pride?”

But Alex couldn’t bring himself to confront Eira, not yet. He feared what she would see in him—weakness, regret, and the very thing he despised most about himself: cowardice.

His resolve hardened as the sun rose. If Eira’s powers were to grow unchecked, she would become a force the kingdom couldn’t withstand. He would have to make a choice—a decision that might shatter what little remained of their family, but one he believed was necessary for the realm.

The flickering light of the fireplace cast jagged shadows across King Alex’s chambers. He stood near the window, staring out at the frozen landscape beyond the palace walls. The weight of the crown had never felt heavier. The frost on the glass mirrored his state of mind—fractured, uneasy, and cold. The heavy door creaked open, and Callen stepped in, his emerald eyes sharp and guarded. His ambition had always been his most obvious trait, but tonight, there was something else—an edge of apprehension that Alex had come to rely on.

“You summoned me, Father?” Callen asked, his voice even, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. For a moment, Alex studied him, seeing both himself and the shadow of someone far away. The girl with the fiery hair, the one he had sent away all those years ago—the secret that Callen did not know and could never be allowed to learn.

Alex gestured toward the chair near the fire. “Sit, Callen. We have much to discuss.”

Callen obeyed, though his movements were stiff, his anticipation barely concealed. “This is about Eira,” he said, not as a question, but as a statement.

“It is,” Alex confirmed, his tone steady but heavy. “You saw what happened tonight. You saw her... powers.” The word came out like a curse, his disdain for the unnatural force laced in every syllable.

Callen leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. “She lost control. But she’s strong, Father. She’s capable.”

“Strong doesn’t mean safe,” Alex replied sharply. He began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “You think strength is enough to rule, Callen? You believe power alone is what keeps this kingdom standing?” His voice lowered, becoming more insidious. “Strength without control is destruction. I’ve seen it before.”

Callen’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

Alex stopped pacing, his expression dark. “You’re old enough to hear this now. Years ago, there was another—a girl. She was fiery, untamed, and born with a power that defied the natural order. Her presence jeopardized the balance of this kingdom, just as Eira’s does now.” His gaze hardened. “We had no choice but to send her away.”

Callen straightened in his chair, his mind racing. “Send her away?” he echoed, incredulous. “Who was she?”

Alex’s voice was colder than the frost outside. “Her name is of no consequence. What matters is the lesson. Power like hers—and Eira’s—can never be trusted, not without intervention.”

Callen couldn’t shake the unease that gripped him. “And what happened to her?”

“She was taken,” Alex said flatly. His words felt rehearsed, as if they had been crafted to end all questions. “And her fate should serve as a warning to us. Eira must not follow the same path. She must be contained.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Alex’s words settling heavily between them. For the first time, Callen’s ambition wavered, replaced by an inkling of doubt. His sister wasn’t just a pawn in his quest for the throne—she was something far more complicated. Yet, his father’s trust, his approval, still dangled in front of him like a prize.

“What do you want me to do?” Callen finally asked, though the question carried more resignation than resolve.

Alex placed a hand on Callen’s shoulder, his grip firm. “There is a man—a trusted ally. He knows how to deal with those like her. You will take her to him.”

Callen hesitated, his mind racing with questions he dared not ask. The shadow of the fiery-haired girl loomed in his thoughts, a ghost whose absence carried more questions than answers. “And if she doesn’t forgive me?”

“She will thank you one day, as will this kingdom,” Alex said coldly. “This is your moment, Callen. Show me that you are ready to lead. Prove to me that you are more than a boy chasing the crown.”

Callen’s jaw tightened, the words igniting a spark of defiance in his chest. He would complete this task, not just for his father’s approval, but to solidify his place as heir. Yet, as he rose to leave, a knot of unease twisted in his stomach. The legacy of power—and its consequences—cast a long shadow, and he could feel its chill creeping closer with every step.