The Shattered Crowns

The cell was a tomb of silence, broken only by the faint scuttling of unseen insects and the occasional groan of shifting stone. Akash leaned against the post he was tied to, the coarse ropes biting into his wrists and making his hands go numb. The air was stale, thick with the mingled smells of damp stone and the ever-present grit of sand. The faint glow from a single torch outside his cell cast long shadows across the floor, stretching and twisting like specters in the gloom.

Akash's head ached, not just from the blow he'd taken from the guards, but from the memory of the Sister's screams in the throne room. The Vessel of Ruin. The words stuck in his mind, echoing with a weight he couldn't shake. What did they mean? Who—or what—was the Despoiler? And why had he seen that man on the throne of ash, staring at him with blazing orange eyes?

He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. His fingers curled into fists against the ropes as the words repeated in his head. Weak. Malformed. Worthless. The man's disdain lingered like an old wound, festering beneath his skin.

Footsteps broke the silence, firm and deliberate. Akash's eyes snapped open, and he straightened as much as the ropes allowed. The sound wasn't the aimless shuffle of a guard on routine patrol. No, this was different. There was purpose in those steps.

The iron door groaned open, and Veneres entered. The man moved with a grace that seemed almost out of place in the dim, filthy gallows. His silver-embellished robes trailed behind him, pristine despite the dirt and decay around him. He didn't glance at Akash immediately, his sharp eyes taking in the cell as though evaluating its worth.

When his gaze finally landed on Akash, it was like a blade being drawn. The faintest smile curved his lips, cold and distant. "You look… comfortable," he said, his voice smooth and measured, with just a hint of mockery.

Akash glared at him, his jaw tightening. "If you've come to gloat, get it over with."

Veneres chuckled softly, the sound low and almost amused. "Gloat? What would I have to gloat about? Watching a child flail against the tides of fate isn't exactly entertaining." He stepped closer, the dim torchlight catching the polished silver embroidery of his bracers. "I came here for one reason: curiosity. I wanted to see the boy who managed to turn an entire throne room into chaos."

Akash scoffed, leaning forward as far as the ropes would allow. "Glad I could impress you."

"Oh, you misunderstand," Veneres said, crouching slightly so he was eye level with Akash. His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "I'm not impressed. I'm fascinated. There's a difference."

Akash met his gaze, defiance burning in his eyes. "What do you want?"

Veneres tilted his head slightly, studying him. "Such hostility. Is that really the right tone to take with the only man standing between you and the gallows?"

Akash clenched his teeth, but he said nothing.

Veneres straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. He began to pace slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate, like the ticking of a clock. "Do you know what you are, Akash?" he asked, his tone conversational, as though he were discussing the weather. "You're a joke. A poorly written one, at that. A stray taken in by the Dauntless Company out of pity, thrown into a world you barely understand, fumbling about with notions of grandeur and purpose. And now?" He paused, turning to face Akash fully. "Now you're a liability."

The words hit like a blow, but Akash didn't flinch. He stared back, his voice low and steady. "If that's what you think, why are you here? Just kill me and get it over with."

Veneres's smile returned, sharper now. "Oh, Akash. Do you really think I waste my time on things that aren't useful to me? If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't be here. No, I'm here because, despite your many… flaws, I see potential. A spark. Something that might be molded into something worth keeping alive."

Akash's fists tightened against the ropes. "You don't know anything about me."

Veneres laughed softly, shaking his head. "Don't I? I know more about you than you'd like to admit. You're a creature of impulse, driven by anger and guilt. You've lost people—family, friends. And you carry that weight like a badge of honor, telling yourself it's what makes you strong. But it doesn't, Akash. It makes you reckless. Weak."

Akash's jaw clenched. "I don't care what you think of me."

"Liar," Veneres said smoothly, his tone almost pitying. "You care deeply. You want so desperately to prove yourself, to show the world that you're more than some orphan from a forgotten village. But the truth, Akash, is that the world doesn't care. It will chew you up and spit you out without a second thought." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Unless you give it a reason to care."

Akash's eyes narrowed. "And what reason would that be?"

Veneres straightened, his expression unreadable. "Power," he said simply. "The only language this world understands."

Akash scoffed, leaning back against the post. "You sound just like that bastard in the vision. Power, strength—it's all meaningless."

"Is it?" Veneres asked, his tone almost curious. "Tell me, Akash, do you think anyone in that throne room was thinking about meaning when the Sister screamed? When the guards moved to kill you? No. They were thinking about power. About control. And whether they realize it or not, they were afraid. Afraid of what you might become."

Akash frowned, the words settling uncomfortably in his chest. "What do you want from me?"

Veneres smiled again, that same sharp, predatory curve of his lips. "I want you to survive. I want you to prove me right. And to do that, you'll need to proclaim your right to the Trials of the First King."

Akash's brow furrowed. "And what are these Trials?"

"A test," Veneres said, his tone vague. "A gauntlet designed to weed out the weak and unworthy. If you pass, you'll be granted a title and recognition that even the God King himself cannot deny. If you fail… well, you'll die. But you were going to die anyway, weren't you?"

Akash glared at him. "You're really selling this, Veneres."

"I don't need to sell it," Veneres replied smoothly. "It's your only chance. Take it, or die here in obscurity."

"And what do you get out of this?" Akash asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Veneres tilted his head, his expression serene. "Ah, there it is. The ever-persistent question of why. Do you think I need a reason to see you succeed? Perhaps I see something in you—a spark of ambition, a potential that even you haven't realized yet. Or perhaps…" He paused, his smile sharpening. "Perhaps I just enjoy watching the pieces move on the board."

Akash's lips curled into a sneer. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

Veneres laughed, a soft, melodic sound that somehow felt colder than his words. "I've been called worse. Now, do we have an understanding?"

Akash was silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on Veneres. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. I'll take your stupid Trials. But don't think for a second that I'm doing this for you."

"Of course not," Veneres said, his smile never faltering. "You're doing it for yourself. As you should." He turned toward the door, his robes trailing behind him like the shadow of a predator. Just before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder. "One last thing, Akash. When you stand before the court tomorrow, don't just proclaim your right to the Trials. Demand it. Make them see you. Make them fear you."

With that, he was gone, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. Akash leaned back against the post, his chest heaving as he processed the conversation. His hands tightened into fists against the ropes, his nails digging into his palms.

"Fear me, huh?" he muttered to himself, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "We'll see."