His Bride, Her Revenge
Chapter 111: The King’s Decision

Chapter 111: The King’s Decision

The dawn that followed the fall of the gods was a strange, fragile thing.

Soft light spread across the land, revealing a world broken yet breathing. The fires that had consumed the sky were gone, leaving smoke trailing like ghosts over the ruined battlefield. Crows circled above, their cries sharp against the silence. And at the heart of it all, Cambria stood at the edge of what was once a throne, now reduced to ash and stone.

But this story was not hers alone.

Far to the north, where the war had not yet reached, Knox’s former capital stirred with unrest. Word of the gods’ fall had traveled on the wind, carried by refugees, deserters, and whispers. The people waited, fearful, wondering who would claim the shattered empire’s crown.

And in that moment, as history hesitated between peace and another storm, he returned.

The King in Exile

Knox rode alone.

His once-gilded armor was tarnished, his cloak torn, the ember glow in his veins faded to mere memory. Every step of his horse echoed down the empty streets of the capital. Windows shuttered. Doors bolted. The city that had once cheered for his rise now cowered at his return.

He dismounted before the royal citadel a fortress of black stone that seemed to sneer at the dawn and stood for a long moment, staring at its closed gates.

The guards above wavered, unsure whether to let him pass.

And then Knox spoke.

"Open it," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion and regret. "Or I will tear it down myself."

The gates groaned open.

Inside, the halls were as he remembered and yet not. Dust coated the marble floors. Tapestries hung in tatters. The throne room, where he had once ruled with ambition blazing in his chest, felt cold now, empty of purpose.

He crossed to the dais and stood before the empty throne.

Once, it had felt like destiny.

Now, it felt like a grave.

Maddox’s words echoed in his mind: Power devours all. Even me.

The Council’s Summons

Knox did not sit.

He waited.

Before the sun reached its height, the remnants of his council gathered men and women who had once followed him without question. Now, they came warily, as if unsure whether the king before them was the same man who had led them to ruin.

Lord Valen, grizzled and scarred, spoke first. "My king. We did not expect..."

"Me to return?" Knox finished. He let the words hang. "I did not expect it either."

Lady Ceara narrowed her eyes. "The people are frightened. They hear tales of gods and monsters. They say you’ve become both."

"I was," Knox admitted. "But no longer."

Silence. Disbelief.

"You abandoned us," another councilor said. "You left this city to burn while you chased power."

Knox did not deny it.

"I did. And I failed. But I am here now, to choose what comes next."

Valen’s voice softened. "And what is that?"

Knox looked past them, toward the throne.

"I came to decide whether this crown should rise again. Whether kings like me have any place in what follows. Or whether it ends with me."

The People’s Verdict

Word spread through the city that Knox had returned. Crowds gathered in the square below the citadel. Some came to see if the king would reclaim his crown. Others came to demand his head.

Knox stepped onto the balcony, overlooking them all.

Their faces were a sea of weariness, anger, and fear.

"I do not ask for your loyalty," Knox said, his voice carrying over the square. "I do not ask for your forgiveness. I stand before you as a man who tried to shape the world through power and failed. I let ambition blind me. I let pride consume me. And I brought ruin where I should have brought peace."

The crowd murmured, unsure.

"I will not wear the crown again unless you call me to it. This kingdom is yours, not mine. Today, you decide."

The silence that followed was long and deep.

And then voices rose. Some called for him to rule, to protect them from the chaos beyond the walls. Others demanded he leave, to let new leaders rise from the ashes of the old.

Knox listened.

And when they quieted, he spoke once more.

"I have heard you."

Cambria’s Arrival

Even as Knox weighed the voices of his people, fate moved beyond his walls.

Cambria rode north with Lucien, Maddox, Evelyn, and what remained of their forces. Their journey was slow, their bodies weary, but purpose drove them on. The world could not wait for grief or rest.

They reached the gates of the capital as night fell.

The guards hesitated but let them in.

By torchlight, Cambria saw the city’s wounds. The hunger in its streets. The despair that clung to its bones. This was what power had bought. This was what kings and queens had left behind.

When she reached the citadel, she found Knox alone in the throne room, the council dismissed.

Neither spoke at first.

Then:

"You came," Knox said.

"You called," Cambria answered.

His eyes darkened. "Not with words."

"No," she agreed. "But your choice reached me all the same."

The Decision

They stood beneath the broken banners of a fallen empire.

"I am not fit to rule," Knox said quietly. "I see that now. My decisions, my hunger for power they brought this kingdom to ruin. The people deserve better."

Cambria studied him. The man before her was not the tyrant she had fought, nor the boy she had loved. He was both and neither.

"Then name what comes next," she said.

Knox stepped down from the dais.

He drew the crown from his brow, not the god’s flame, but the simple iron circlet that marked him as king. He held it out to her.

"This was always meant for you," he said.

Cambria did not take it.

"The world doesn’t need a crown," she said. "It needs leaders who remember what it means to serve, not rule."

Knox smiled, sad and grateful.

"Then we end the age of kings."

Together, they carried the crown to the balcony.

Before the gathered people, they lifted it high and cast it into the square below, where it broke upon the stones.

Cheers rose but so did cries of alarm.

From the city’s edge, a dark wave approached. Not soldiers. Not gods.

Something new.

Figures clad in armor of glass and bone. Their banners bore no crest, their faces hidden behind masks shaped like skulls.

At their head rode a figure cloaked in black, a crown of ash upon their head.

A voice like ice carried on the wind.

"You cast aside the crown. And so, I claim it."

Knox and Cambria froze.

The people scattered in terror as the army entered the square, surrounding the citadel.

A new power had risen not born of gods or thrones, but of the chaos left behind.

Knox drew his blade. "It seems the world isn’t done with kings after all."

Cambria’s eyes hardened. "Then we remind ourselves why we were chosen."

Side by side, they stepped from the balcony to meet the storm together.