Three days without her.
Akamon sat on a boulder outside their makeshift home, his body a hollow echo of the man he'd been. Sleep had abandoned him; hunger was a distant ghost. His ribs pressed against skin gone sallow, his eyes sunken into bruised sockets.
Before him, a pyre of their belongings smoldered—clothes, trinkets, the quilt she'd stolen from him on winter nights. He'd spent hours building it, but when the time came to light it, his magic sputtered like a dying breath.
"Ignite," he rasped.
The second attempt birthed a feeble flame. It caught, spreading lazily, devouring the last physical proof that Marceline the Vampire Queen had ever existed.He couldn't bury his emotions but he could at least attempt hiding it.
Her laughter flickered in the firelight.
"I love you too, Marcy," he whispered to the ashes.
He stood, legs trembling—then froze.Something caught his eyes from within the pile of ash.
A golden glow pulsed beneath the cinders.
Akamon fell to his knees, hands raking through the embers. The glow sharpened, resolving into a crown—untouched by flame, its gems winking like trapped stars.
Marcy's? He turned it in his hands. Gold filigree, red lining, gems carved with sigils he didn't recognize.
The glow dimmed. A compulsion slithered into his mind.Put it on.The more he hesitated the harder it was to resist.
"A crown that doesn't burn," he muttered. "Interesting."
He placed it on his head—and the entire forest exploded in gold.His instincts came in and with both hands he tried to take of the crowds.Indeed both hands cause he just found out the crown was stuck on his head and wouldn't budge.
[The Great Master Has Been Spotted.]
The voice faded—and with it, the world.
Akamon blinked. The forest was gone. Now, he stood in a dungeon of black stone, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Before him loomed two figures atop a dais, their bodies sculpted from sunlight, featureless yet radiating primordial power.Both figures male and female hovered a distance away from where he stood.
The male figure spoke first, his voice like grinding tectonic plates.
"So.You are the Ruler?"
Akamon's mouth went dry. Sweat trickled down his temple as he forced himself upright.
The female figure tilted her head, her tone a lullaby woven from starlight.
"We are servants of the Master. I am Veriol. He is Gothian." A snap of her fingers—the crown dissolved into golden sparks. "That trinket was merely a key. And you, Akamon, are the lock it was meant to open.The very purpose of it's existence"
Gothian stepped forward. "The Crown brings here only one but no other,the prediction is above incalculable.So then I ask you again,you are the ruler, are you not?"
Akamon's fists clenched. "What the hell is a 'Ruler'?"
Their voices merged, masculine thunder and feminine harmony.Their voce synchronized into uniform,their words moving along as if rehearsed.
"The King of All. The Balance Between Existence and Nothingness.The Law That Binds Time.He is the Ruler"
Akamon barked a laugh. "Look at me. I'm a wreck. I couldn't even save—" His voice cracked.A tear forced down his cheek.
"She's gone. Forever. And I… I just did nothing..."
Veriol floated down, her hand hovering near his face. The tear on his cheek evaporated mid-fall.
"Master, grief is a luxury the Ruler cannot afford. What would she say if she saw you now?"
"You know nothing about her!!"
Gothian's voice slammed into him like a hammer:
"True.She doesn't and neither do I.But what we do know is: No one bows to a sniveling child.A crybaby. If you wish to wallow, speak the word, and we will erase your presence from this realm.I refuse to be ruled by someone who can't even control themselves.Pathetic."
The words carved into Akamon's ribs. Pathetic. Weak. Marcy had died for this?
He wiped his face of the remaining tears with a shuddering breath.
"I'm sorry.I was just being stupid.I didn't mean to snap like that.You're right.She'd scold me if she saw me in this state.Even with her death she kept such a beautiful smile...."He paused
Gothian's hand gripped his shoulder. The touch seared—not with heat, with purpose.
"Then rise.You wish you had strength then right?Well gain it to make up for your past.Let us forge you into what you must become.Do you accept your destiny?"
Akamon lifted his gaze to the abyss above. No going back.Why did Marcy even keep a crown like this around?It ended up chosing him as some Ruler or whatever.He sighed a smile returning on his face.
"I'll do it.The crown chose me right?Then I'll humbly accept."
At once,they both went on one knee,their heads never daring to look up even once.Akamon felt a little awkward since he wasn't used to it.He wanted to find the right word,to tell them and have them be on their feet once more.He pretty much just gave up and allowed them to do what they found necessary.
They're syncing tone was once more, they're words pouring like that of a poem.
"The owner of the known and unknown,the one that makes the impossible possible and the possible impossible.The existence who over sees and transcends bounds.The Limitless Ruler,Lord Akamon".
End of chapter.I hope I'm doing well.I really your opinions.please share with me your thoughts it would really mean a lot.