A Crown of Lavender Fire

The village square was full of bells that would not stop. They hung from iron posts like fat silver raindrops, and each chime pushed the air back from the ground as if the earth itself had been ordered to stay quiet. Elowen Moss stood where the stones were warm from feet and fear. Her hands were hidden under her dark moss-green cloak, but her fingers still smelled like crushed seed.

Prince Cael Vire rode in with court-black banners and a rider’s calm that did not fit a place like this. A crowd formed a ring around the execution platform. No one spoke loud. The warding bells did it for them, a constant warning that magic could be punished here.

Elowen’s mouth tasted of copper. She had swallowed her real name years ago. She had hidden her storm-magic under soot and chores and prayers that sounded like rules. Today, none of it felt safe. Today, they had brought the prince to erase her village from the kingdom’s memory, and the blade would start with her neighbors.