The Shattered Crowns

The Ukari marched silently on either side of Akash, their presence a constant, heavy shadow. He walked with them through the narrow halls beneath the coliseum, his legs aching from the strain of the last trial. The atmosphere hung heavy with anticipation, the distant roar of the crowd barely audible now. The Ukari with the longsword finally spoke, his voice low and steady.

"The last trial is the ascendance. It is a crowning of the candidate."

Akash frowned. That explained next to nothing. "Crowning?" he asked.

The Ukari inclined his head slightly. "Your body has been tested. You hold the blood of the Angel. It is time to place the crown atop your head and accept your title. We head to where the First God King created the Five Honors."

No more details were offered. The Ukari guided Akash through winding passages that led out to the streets of Reem, where the crowd awaited him. Akash mounted a waiting horse, its dark coat sleek beneath the sunlight. As the procession moved forward, coppery petals rained down from above, fluttering like a storm of golden leaves. The priest who had overseen the trials raised his voice, amplified by Atta, so that it boomed over the city.

"People of Reem, the time has come. A new Angel of the Red Sands has been birthed! Rejoice as his feathered wings protect our women and children from the true enemy. Our new champion is of the blood of the Angel!"

The people devoured his words with fervent zeal. "Angel! Angel! Angel!" they chanted, their voices rising in waves that reverberated through the streets.

Akash gripped the Tridact tightly, his knuckles pale. The cheers grated against his ears. Every fiber of his being told him this was wrong. He didn't deserve their worship. This was a farce, all of it. He wasn't an Angel, not by blood or by deeds. If not for the creature in his head—the voice that haunted him—he would have died in the second trial. And yet…

At the front of the procession, children waved and cheered, their small faces alight with joy. Akash couldn't help but smile, a weak but genuine expression that slipped past his doubts. He raised a hand and waved to the crowd, and they roared louder, their adoration swelling to deafening heights. For a fleeting moment, the weight in his chest lightened. If they needed an Angel, if they needed hope, he would play the part. Just for now.

The procession passed into a grand complex surrounded by five towering pyramids. They loomed over the scene, silent sentinels of the honored dead. As they entered the wide courtyard, the priest dismounted quickly and hurried to the center. His voice carried across the space.

"The ascension of the Angel of the Red Sands is at hand! An Inquisitor is needed. Where is one?"

"I was made aware as soon as the second trial concluded," came a soft, airy voice. The crowd parted as the Inquisitor descended from the largest pyramid. His golden mask gleamed in the sunlight, its finely crafted human features unmarred and serene. Five delicate prongs jutted out from the back of the mask like a radiant crown.

The priest bowed hurriedly. "Inquisitor, I thought you would still be with the King."

"Duty calls, even for me," the Inquisitor replied smoothly, his voice a calm river. "To crown the next Angel of the Red Sands is a privilege I never thought I would have."

"My Inquisitor, I am sorry to inform—" the priest began, but the Inquisitor cut him off with a dismissive wave.

"Oh, there is no need for concern. My fellow Inquisitors have been informed that I will handle the crowning myself."

The priest hesitated. "But, my Inquisitor—"

"Do you think the Angel of the Red Sands would rather be blessed by the one closest to the God King—his very voice—or a lower Inquisitor who sanctions only the unworthy?" The Inquisitor's tone was sharp, cutting through the priest's objections with precision.

The priest bowed lower. "Forgive me, my lord. Of course. I am but a humble servant of the Honor of Purity."

"And it is a role you would do well to remember," the Inquisitor replied coldly, turning his attention to Akash. "Now there he is. The one who claims this ascension."

"Follow the Inquisitor," one of the Ukari whispered.

Akash swung off his horse and strode toward the Inquisitor, his legs steady despite the fatigue that gnawed at him. The Inquisitor beckoned him forward with a smooth motion.

"Come, walk beside me," he said. The Ukari followed a few steps behind, ever-watchful.

"I will guard the Oathsworn," Fallen said firmly.

"Oathsworn?" Akash echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Another lofty title."

"It is what the Ukari call the Angel," the Inquisitor explained offhandedly. "The Oathsworn. A title carried in honor of the First Angel. You are his blood, so the title falls to you."

The Inquisitor glanced at the Ukari and added, "Be at peace. I have no ill will for him." The Ukari, stoic as ever, did not relax.

"You certainly have made quite the name for yourself in these past few hours," the Inquisitor mused, his tone conversational. "From prisoner to Angel of the Red Sands. A remarkable rise."

"I just wanted to live," Akash replied bluntly.

The Inquisitor laughed, a sound as light as air. "You will not have to worry about survival again. As the Angel of the Red Sands, you will be bathed in luxury. The God King himself will bestow upon you a court of concubines—some of his finest, I assure you."

Akash's grip on the Tridact tightened. His mind lingered on the faces of the children in the streets, their innocent smiles cutting through his doubt. He forced himself to ask, "And the people of Reem? What will they gain?"

The Inquisitor tilted his head. "They will celebrate you for years. Your name will echo through history. All you need to do is show yourself every few months. A simple enough task, I assure you."

Akash frowned. "And if I wish to do more?"

"You are the Angel," the Inquisitor said simply. "You may do as you please. But there is no need. Your position is already divine."

Akash's jaw tightened. "I could care less about the title of Coven."

The Inquisitor chuckled. "Spoken just like the Angel of the Red Sands. That defiance will serve you well when addressing the public. They love a voice that carries strength."

They passed through massive doors that led into the largest pyramid. Inside, the walls glimmered with golden patterns, and a basin sat at the center of the chamber, its edges adorned with intricate carvings. The Inquisitor led Akash to a podium, where a golden laurel rested, its craftsmanship flawless.

"This is the Fifth Church of Confidence," the Inquisitor said, gesturing to the room. "And this," he continued, nodding toward the laurel, "is your crown."

Akash stared at the laurel, doubt curling in his stomach. "I don't know how to perform the ceremony," he admitted.

"When I ask you a question, respond with 'on my Honor.' And when I ask what you will do as the Angel of the Red Sands, speak from your heart," the Inquisitor instructed.

The room began to fill. Akash glanced back and caught sight of the God King and his court entering. Vyn, seated among the Sovrans, gave Akash a smug wink, while Jassin's frown deepened. The crowd murmured with anticipation.

The Inquisitor's voice boomed, silencing them. "Now that we have all gathered, the ascension will begin. Kneel before the Honor of Confidence."

Akash dropped to one knee, the cold stone beneath him grounding him. The Inquisitor dipped his fingers into golden paint and began marking Akash's back with deliberate strokes.

"Do you seek to ascend?" the Inquisitor intoned. "To soar above Reem as our forefathers once did?"

"On my Honor, I do," Akash said, his voice steady.

The Inquisitor's fingers moved again, painting intricate lines across his spine. "Do you accept the mission of the First King? To guide Reem through turmoil and laugh at the stars?"

"I will see it done," Akash replied.

The paint's chill crept across his back as the Inquisitor asked the final question. "Will you be the Angel of Vengeance? The one whose wings are dipped in blood, who turns the sands red and sears the sky black with fire? Will you carry Reem's burdens?"

Akash took a deep breath, the weight of the Tridact heavy in his hands. "I will."

The laurel was placed atop his head, its gold warm against his brow. The Inquisitor stepped back, his voice carrying across the chamber. "Rise and tell us, Oathsworn, what you will bring to Reem."

Akash hesitated, gripping the hilt of his blade. His eyes rose to the ring of the heavens above. Finally, he spoke. "I will stand at the Bridge as the gates open to the East. I will free those in chains. I will be the Angel of the Red Sands, the Nomarch of Reem, and the end of the Hopekiller."

The room fell into stunned silence before the lords and ladies erupted into applause. Akash whispered under his breath, "And I will find both of you, no matter where you've gone."

In the Honor of Confidence, a man stood crowned, three golden wings unfurling behind him. He was alone, but in that moment, the Angel of the Red Sands had been born anew.