## đ CHAPTER 79: _"The Cursed Coronation"_
The sun did not rise in Elira.
Not that day.
Instead, an endless red glow clung to the horizon like a wound that refused to close. The sky bled crimson. The earth cracked beneath royal stone. The palace bells rangânot for celebration, but for warning. The Coronation of the Cursed Prince had come.
But it was not a crown Arien Thorne wanted.
It was a debt.
A throne carved in regret.
And a vow whispered between two broken hearts beneath a dying tree.
"I will take this power not for myself," Arien spoke before the thousand cursed who stood before the shattered gates of Elira, "but for every forgotten soul whose name was burned from history. For every love that died in silence. For every child born cursed and cast aside."
Lysia stood behind him, cloaked in midnight silver, her hand resting on the hilt of the dagger that once killed her own mother to stop the first seal. Her gaze did not flicker, but her soul trembled.
Because she knew what Arien had hidden from her.
He would not survive this coronation.
The curse was clear. Once the cursed sat upon the True Throne, their time would begin to unravel.
But he never told her the rest of the prophecy:
> *Only by dying twice can the curse be undone. Once by blood. Once by memory.*
As the ceremonial chains were draped across his shoulders, Arien met her eyes.
He smiled.
Lysia did not.
The High Mage recited the vow of fire, placing the Sigil Crown above Arien's brow. The moment it touched his skin, black veins raced across his face like cracks in porcelain. Magic bled from his chestâlight so bright it seared the retinas of every witness.
And the wind whispered: "He remembers."
Because within the crown's power, lay every curse passed from one ruler to the next. Every heartbreak. Every betrayal. Every forgotten death.
Arien saw them all.Â
And still, he did not break.
He stood tall. Crowned. Silent.
Until the final voice in his mind said:
> *"She is the final curse. And the final key."*
The coronation ended with thunder.
Lysia ran to him as he collapsed.
"Don't you dare die, Arien."
His hand reached for hers. His breath shallow. His voiceâbarely audible.
"Then kiss me, and give me a reason to stay."
She did.
And for a second, the entire kingdom exhaled.
His heart beat once. Then again. And again.
But his eyes no longer held this world.
In his mind, he stood in the in-betweenâa realm of memories and echoes. And there, in the white void, stood a version of himself⊠younger, bloodier, afraid.
"What are you willing to give?" the younger Arien asked.
"Everything," the crowned Arien replied.
Then the younger smiledâand vanished.
Back in the world, Arien opened his eyes. They glowed gold.
The curse had been⊠absorbed. Not broken. Not lifted.
He was now the vessel.
And Lysia, watching the storm swirl around his awakening form, knew something unspeakable:
She would have to kill him one day.
To save the world.