It wasn't on any map.
It didn't cast a shadow.
And when they first saw it, the sky tried to look away.
A tower.
Tall as grief.
Wide as silence.
Built from something that shimmered when you stared too long. Not stone. Not metal. Something in-between.
The Crownless Tower.
Flick shivered.
"I've seen it. In dreams."
Elira nodded. "So have I."
They stood at its base, where the grass dared not grow. Where the wind whispered in circles and every bird flew around instead of over.
There was no door.
No window.
No welcome.
Just a single phrase carved at the foot:
"To enter, give what cannot be taken."
Varn shrugged. "Easy. Give it your patience."
Solin tried singing.
Sera tried humming.
Amaryn kicked the wall.
Nothing worked.
Elira stepped forward.
And gave the Tower a smile.
Not a big one.
Not fake.
Just real.
And soft.
The kind you give when you trust someone, even if they might hurt you.
The Tower sighed.
And opened.
Inside was a hallway.
Straight.
Narrow.
Made of reflections.
They didn't see themselves exactly, more like echoes.
Elira saw her eight-year-old self, hiding a bruise with a scarf.
Sera saw herself in the Circle, alone.
Amaryn saw the word "Seventeen" scratched over her chest.
Flick… saw nothing.
No mirror caught him.
No reflection reached back.
He walked forward anyway.
They reached a room made of books that had never been written.
Each page was blank.
But when Elira touched one, words spilled out:
"She gave them hope, even when she had none."
She stepped back.
The book closed.
Amaryn touched another.
"She was always waiting to be rescued. She didn't know she'd do the rescuing."
The books weren't stories.
They were reminders.
At the top of the Tower, they found her.
The forgotten royal.
Hair like ink spilled under water.
Eyes made of locked doors.
She wore a crown she had never earned, and had thrown it away before they entered.
"Who are you?" Elira asked.
"I was born to rule," the woman said, "but never told how."
Her voice held no pride.
Just rust.
"My kingdom was stolen before it could be built. So I built this Tower instead."
She looked at Flick.
"You carry the flame they broke to stop me."
Flick said nothing.
Elira stepped in front of him.
"What do you want?"
The woman shrugged. "To be remembered. But that's not why you're here."
She waved her hand.
The walls peeled back.
And behind them—
A door with no handle.
No lock.
No hinges.
Only a soft, musical laugh echoing faintly from the other side.
Solin perked up. "That's my mother's laugh."
They all heard someone.
Sera heard her brother.
Varn heard the friend who didn't make it.
Amaryn heard the child she'd once pretended to be.
Flick heard a voice he didn't recognize, but felt in every flame inside him.
And Elira…
She heard herself.
Telling a story.
To someone who was crying.
She didn't know who.
The woman pointed to the door.
"You want answers? Go through. But only one can enter."
Elira looked at her friends.
Then at the door.
"I'll go."
"No," said Amaryn.
"I will," said Sera.
Flick stepped forward. "It has to be me."
But Elira held up her lantern.
Its flame split gently into five.
One for each of them.
"I don't think we need to choose."
She pressed her lantern to the door.
The flame laughed.
And it opened.
They stepped through.
Together.
And were swallowed by light.
Far below, the woman who had no crown sat again.
Smiling, faintly.
"They'll break the silence," she said.
"They already have."
And somewhere deep within the Tower
The first book wrote itself.