King frostwalker's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

Frostwalker set the crown on the table inside his Icekeep. Its runes still pulsed, faster now, hungry. His frostbitten paws ached when he touched it. Muffin Hensley stood across from him, arms folded. "You can't crown anyone with a thing that fights you," she said. "So we figure out what it really is." She leaned close and stared at the runes without blinking. The crown answered her. The runes flared white and cracked down the middle with a sharp snap. Frostwalker jumped back. A jagged shard of ice broke loose from the crown and fell to the floor. It glowed with ancient marks, the same runes carved deep in its heart. The crown itself dimmed and went cold and dead. His royal guard rushed in, ice crystals bristling on his shoulders. "My king, the crown—it's broken." He looked at the dark ceremonial band on the table. "Without it, you can crown no one." The three-winter war would grind on forever now. But Muffin did not look at the guard. She stared at the shard. Then she reached down and picked it up. The runes on the shard blazed at her touch. They did not burn her. They matched her, glowing bright against her orange fur like they had waited for her paw. Frostwalker felt the cold in the room shift. "Put it down," the guard warned. Muffin did not put it down. She turned the shard over, and her green eyes stayed steady, unafraid. "Okay, so here's the thing," she said slowly. "I've seen these marks before. Not read them. Seen them. In my sleep, every winter of my life." She pressed the shard to her chest. The glow sank into her fur and spread. "I know what this says. I know what it wants. And I shouldn't." Frostwalker stared at his scout. His trusted advisor. The one who had fought beside him to win the crown back. "Muffin. What are you?" She met his eyes and did not blink. "The one who made this crown made it to answer to their own hand. That's why it fights yours." Her voice stayed level, but her paw trembled. "It's answering mine, Tundey. It's answering me." The guard backed away. Frostwalker did not. He had spent his life hunting a rightful ruler to end the wars. He had crowned the wrong one once and buried the dead for it. Now the crown lay dead on his table, and the power it held glowed inside the cat who had guided him this far. "You're the creator," Frostwalker said. "Reborn." He looked at the shard, then at her. "The crown broke because it found you." Muffin closed her paw around the shard. The runes went quiet under her grip. "Then we've got a bigger problem than Eric," she said. "Because everyone who wants that crown is going to want me instead."