The old queen's throne had sat empty for a hundred days, and today Petal Shimmerwind was supposed to fill it. She hovered at the base of the crystal tower, holding the scroll the elders had pressed into her hands. Choose the worthy fairy, they had said. But the scroll was blank. No name. No sign. The whole court fluttered below her, waiting, and half of them already whispered rival names. Pick wrong, and the court would break apart. Petal's wings shook. She had no test, no rule, no way to know a true queen from a loud one. "You're going to drop that." Skylar Brightwind landed beside her, blue hair catching the tower's light. He was the only fairy who ever told her the ugly truth. When they were young, he had once dared her to fly through a storm. She had. "They'll follow whoever you name," he said. "So name someone." "That's the problem." Petal gripped the scroll tighter. "If I choose, I'm just picking a side. Both halves will hate the other forever." Skylar frowned. He looked at the tower, then at the crowd. "Then don't choose with words. Let the throne choose." Petal stared at him. The old stories said the queen's seat once glowed for the rightful ruler. Nobody had tested it in her lifetime. It might do nothing. But nothing was still an answer everyone could see. She flew up before her courage failed. At the top, she called every fairy inside the tower. The rivals came, proud and stiff. "No votes," Petal announced. "No speeches. Touch the throne. It knows what we don't." One by one they landed on the cold seat. Nothing. The crowd grew restless. The loudest rival smirked and reached out last, sure the light would answer him. It stayed dark. He shoved back from the throne, red-faced. Then a small fairy near the door, one who had never asked for anything, drifted forward. Petal barely knew her. The girl touched the throne with one finger. The crystal flared, warm and bright, throwing color across every face in the room. Gasps filled the tower. The rivals fell silent. Even the loud one bowed his head, because the light had chosen where words could not. Petal's chest loosened. She had done it. The court would not split, because she had not picked the winner. The throne had. But as the new queen rose into the glow, Petal saw the loud rival slip toward the stairs, jaw tight. He did not bow again. He gathered three others with a jerk of his head and left without a word. Skylar landed beside Petal. "You crowned a queen," he said quietly. "And made an enemy." Petal watched the four empty doorways. The court had held. But some of it had just walked out the door, and she had no idea what they would do next.