The Capital. The Great Cathedral. Morning.
The bells began to toll at dawn.
They rang across the city, low and mournful at first, then louder, more insistent, calling the people to witness. The streets filled with mourners, then with spectators, then with those who simply wanted to be part of history.
The great cathedral stood at the heart of the capital, its spires reaching toward a gray sky. The doors were open, the steps lined with guards in polished armor, the aisles crowded with nobles in silk and velvet.
Edward stood in a chamber behind the altar, alone.
His clothes were new—dark wool, simple, unadorned. The crown would come later. The ceremony would be long. He had been preparing for this his whole life, but he still felt unprepared.
A knock at the door.
"Enter."
William stepped inside. His clothes were also new—the uniform of a captain, not a prince. He had chosen it himself.
"Brother," William said.
Edward turned. "Brother."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"The cathedral is full," William said.
Edward nodded. "I know."
"The nobles are waiting."
"I know."
William moved to stand beside him. "Are you ready?"
Edward looked at his hands. They were steady. "I have to be."
---
The ceremony was long.
The Archbishop spoke of duty, of sacrifice, of the weight of the crown. The nobles knelt. The people watched. The guards stood at attention.
Edward knelt before the altar. The Archbishop placed the crown on his head. It was heavier than he expected.
"Long live the King," the Archbishop said.
The words echoed through the cathedral.
"Long live the King," the nobles repeated.
"Long live the King," the people whispered.
Edward stood. Turned to face them.
He was the King now.
---
After the ceremony, there was a feast.
The great hall was crowded, the tables heavy with food, the servants rushing to fill cups and clear plates. The nobles circled Edward like sharks, offering congratulations, offering advice, offering their daughters.
William stood apart, watching.
Gwen moved to stand beside him. "You're not eating."
"I'm not hungry."
"You should be celebrating."
William shook his head. "There's nothing to celebrate."
Gwen was quiet for a moment. "Your father would want you to be happy."
William looked at the nobles, the servants, the crown on his brother's head. "My father would want me to be useful."
---
Edward called William to the study after the feast.
The room was dark, the fire low, the books still on the shelves. Edward sat behind the desk—their father's desk. He looked tired.
"The border," Edward said. "I need someone I can trust."
William nodded. "I'll go."
"Not alone. The Vargr are massing. The hunters are watching. You need people who can fight."
William leaned against the wall. "Who?"
Edward unrolled a map. "Lira. She knows the terrain. She's the best scout we have."
"She'll go."
"Davin. His teleportation could be useful for reconnaissance."
William nodded slowly. "And Tina? Her lightning—"
"Could be the difference between holding the pass and losing it." Edward looked at him. "Take them."
"Anyone else?"
Edward was quiet for a moment. "Ken."
William frowned. "Ken?"
"Not in person. A shadow clone. He can maintain one at a distance. It won't fight, but it can relay information. Instant communication between the border and the capital."
William stared at him. "He can do that?"
"His blessing evolved. He can be in two places at once—sort of. The clone is weaker, can't fight, but it can see, hear, speak." Edward met his eyes. "It could be the difference between knowing and guessing."
William was silent for a moment. "I'll ask him."
---
Ken agreed.
He stood in the corner of the study, his arms crossed, his face still. The shadows clung to him like a second skin.
"The clone won't fight," he said. "It won't be able to. The distance is too great. Maintaining it at all will be... difficult."
"But it can talk," Edward said.
"It can talk. It can see. It can hear." Ken paused. "If something happens to it, I'll feel it."
William stepped forward. "How long can you keep it active?"
Ken shook his head. "Hours. Maybe a day. It depends on the distance, the magic in the air, how much I'm needed elsewhere."
"We'll use it sparingly."
Ken nodded. "Then I'll prepare."
---
The night before they left, William stood on the balcony of his room, looking out at the city.
The lights were bright, the streets still crowded, the palace still buzzing with the aftermath of the ceremony. His brother was King now. His father was dead. His friend was still missing.
Gwen appeared beside him.
"You're thinking," she said.
"Always."
"What?"
William was quiet for a moment. "About Aldric. About the portal. About whether he's still alive."
Gwen leaned against the railing. "Do you think he is?"
William touched the knife in his pocket—the one Aldric had given him, before the end.
"I have to."
---
They left at dawn.
The gates opened. The road stretched south, toward the border, toward the Vargr, toward whatever was waiting.
Lira rode at the front, her bow across her back, her eyes on the horizon. Davin rode beside her, his teleportation stone in his pocket, his face young and scared. Tina rode behind them, her staff across her saddle, her lightning quiet.
William rode at the back, his hand on his sword, his eyes on the road ahead.
Ken's shadow clone rode beside him—pale, translucent, silent. It would not fight. It would not speak unless spoken to. But it would watch. It would remember.
The city disappeared behind them.
The border waited ahead.