Bella Powerforce's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Bella Powerforce had ruled the enchanted realms for seven hundred years, and today she meant to give the job away. She sat on the crystal throne outside the palace gates, the crown of jagged crystal heavy on her head. Below her, the courtyard filled with candidates: mages, generals, quiet farmers with steady eyes. She was a Gianna. She looked twenty. She was tired in a way that had nothing to do with her body. If she chose wrong, the realms would fall in a season, and time itself would slip from its track. Heather came up the steps first, pink hair loose, hands empty. She did not bow. She never did. "Cyndi put her book on the west lawn," Heather said. "Open. On a stand. Where every candidate has to walk past it." Bella looked past her sister. She could see it from the throne: a purple grimoire spread on a pedestal at the edge of the crowd, gold light bleeding off its pages. Cyndi stood beside it in a dark robe, arms folded, watching the line of hopefuls thin around her book like water around a stone. It was a claim. It was a threat dressed as a display. Bella lifted the small crystal shard from the arm of her throne. It was the test. Whoever held it long enough to feel the weight of every living thing in the realms could try for the crown. She had held it for seven centuries. Most people dropped it inside a minute. She called Cyndi forward first, because putting it off would be worse. Cyndi climbed the steps without hurry. Bella held out the shard. "Take it. If you can carry what I carry, the throne is yours." Cyndi took the shard. Her hand did not shake. Her eyes did not change. She held it for a full minute, then two, and Bella watched her face and saw no strain, only appetite. That was the answer. The shard measured burden. Cyndi felt none. She wanted the seat, not the weight. Bella took the shard back. "No," she said. "Not you." Cyndi's mouth tightened once. She said, "You'll regret that," and walked back down the steps to her book. Bella dismissed the rest of the candidates before she tested any of them. Heather stayed on the steps, watching Cyndi cross the lawn and lift the grimoire off its stand. "She won't stop now," Heather said. "She'll come at the throne directly." Bella set the shard back into the arm of the throne. Her hand was steady. Her chest was not. She had refused her sister in front of the realms, and she had no successor, and the one person who wanted the crown most was the one person who could not have it. The crown on her head felt heavier than it had that morning.