The Scratched Crown

Intro

Life had been good—warm, full of laughter and light—until Shadoro and his tribe, the Shadrynns, stormed into Aeloria. The night that followed would be etched into memory forever, whispered in fear as The Broken.

At the centre of the devastation were Queen Malaria and Princess Nyxaria Willow, the very hearts Shadoro sought to crush. He did not care whose lives were shattered along the way; suffering was his weapon and fear his language. The streets of Aeloria ran with despair, and even the bravest souls faltered under the weight of his cruelty.

And then they unveiled their horror: The Claw. A glove of jagged metal, sharp as hatred itself, forged by Shadoro’s alchemists. Its touch was death to the mind—anyone it scratched across the face was left a hollow shell, their thoughts stolen, their will bound. Friends, neighbours, even family—turned into obedient shadows of themselves. The perfect pawns for a tyrant who thrived on destruction- that was how he was claimed victorious.

In that night of fire and silence, the light of Aeloria began to fade—and with it, the hearts of all who called it home.

Comments for this chapter

• hmm Queen Malaria? it's an ..interesting name but seeing as it is a disease in our world, i would recommend finding a different name! the other names are good and I like your writing style! good luck <3

  Comment by lilrose on December 31, 2025

  Liked by 0

• oh i didnt know that it was a disease :(

  Comment by Mystical Stories on December 31, 2025

  Liked by 0

• oh i didnt know that it was a disease :(

  Comment by Mystical Stories on December 31, 2025

  Liked by 0

Log in to add a comment.

Prologue

Nyxaria was held captive, unaware of the horrors unfolding beyond her prison. Her mother, Queen Malaria, had been executed—silently, privately—but Nyx wouldn’t know until the sun rose the next day.

The morning brought only despair. Aeloria was draped in mourning, its streets stripped of laughter, its hearts heavy with emptyness. Shadoro’s power spread like a shadow over the land, and the Claw claimed more victims with each passing hour. Friend after friend, neighbour after neighbour, all reduced to mindless obedience—until there was no one left to resist, no one left to remember what happiness had been.

And in that silence, Nyx felt the heavy, painful weight of a kingdom erased.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The death of me

The guards held me close, as my deep, brown hair floated into my face, even though it had put them in double braids moments ago, the guards grip tightening with every step, as if I were a threat. I wouldn’t try to fight—not after what happened to my mother. They said it was my fault, that my rebellion had led to her death. I stayed silent, swallowing the rage and fear as they dragged me down a long, winding corridor. Darkness swallowed us, broken only by the flickering torch the guard ahead carried.

We stopped. I knew this room. The Room of the Scratched—the place where minds were stolen and bodies became hollow shells. And now, they wanted me to be victim.

Shadoro approached, the Claw gleaming in his hand. I would not yield. Not to him. Not now—not when Aelorians were hiding, waiting for me to save them. I didn’t hesitate. I turned to the guard on my left and sank my teeth deep into his hand, biting until I tasted blood.

But Shadoro was always one step ahead. His fist collided with my face, again and again, until my nose bled and one eye blurred. He reached under my chin, lifting my face toward him.

“Foolish girl,” he whispered, soft, cunning, venomous.

Then, in a motion too fast to dodge, the Claw scratched across my face. Pain flared, then darkness swallowed me whole.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

Nora

My name is Nora—quiet, obedient Nora.
Not anyone else. no other name… anyone else would mean nothing to me. I am Nora. I ask for nothing.
I want nothing.
I think… nothing. The Shadoro carved the chaos out of me, scraped away every spark, every memory of who I was. And I am grateful. Truly. Who needs wishes? Who needs curiosity? Dreams only break. Questions only hurt. Obedience is easier. Simple. Right.

I am exactly what they made me.
And I am grateful for that.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The forgotten Flash

Shadoro summons me to the Throne Room. His voice echoes off the cold stone as he tells me that, now that they have disposed of… the Queen, he would like me to take the throne.
Me.
Nora.

I nod as I should, bowing low, my movements slow and precise—the way they trained me. I feel nothing. I am supposed to feel nothing.

But then—
A flicker.
A face, soft and blurred, rises unbidden in my mind. A woman. Gentle. Familiar in a way that strikes something deep inside me—something I didn’t know was still alive. My eyes widen.

Two broken names drift through the emptiness of my thoughts:

Mar…
Nyxa…

I don’t know who they are. I don’t know why my chest tightens, why my breath falters. A strange pressure builds behind my eyes—like an emotion trying to be born.

Uneasy, I lower my head to hide the tremble in my hands.

The Shadoro tilts his head, his voice soft—too soft.

“My dear girl… you look unwell. Go on, excuse yourself to the infantry.”

The words sound gentle, but the edge beneath them is unmistakable.
His face shows concern, yet his tone… his tone carries nothing but irritation, as if my discomfort is an inconvenience rather than a worry.

I bow again, deeper this time, and turn away.
My steps are steady.
My face is calm.

But inside, I feel something small, something forgotten is knocking, begging to be remembered.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The silent Heartbeat

As I walk down the corridor, images slam into me— a crown, a throne, a name. Nyx… Nyxa… Nyxaria…

My breath catches. My steps falter. I press a hand to the wall to steady myself as the name pulses through me like a heartbeat I’d forgotten. Shaking, I turn and hurry to my chamber.
I grab a pen. Paper.
And I begin to write.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

Dear Mother...

Dear Mother,

I remember, I remember everything- ‘The Broken’ and Aloria. I remember ‘The Claw’ and Shadoro. I remember you, the Queen, my mother. But most importantly, I remember Nyxaria, I remember Me, and now, with anger, spite, sadness and love to fuel me, I will reclaim the throne, not as Nora, I am not Nora.
I was never Nora.

I am Nyxaria, daughter of a stolen kingdom, heir to a scratched and broken throne.
And with every memory returning, with every heartbeat that hurts and heals at the same time—

I swear to you, Mother:

I will reclaim what was taken.
I will rise for Aeloria.
I will rise for you.

Not as their creation.
Not as their puppet.

But as Nyxaria.
Your Nyxaria.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The unspoken tear

I slip the letter into my pocket and hurry toward the throne room, heart pounding. But the guards stop me. Rough hands search me, and they pull the letter free. One of them reads it aloud in a mocking tone, stretching my words like a joke. Heat floods my face—shame, fury, all tangled—and before I can snatch it back, they drag me to Shadoro.

He sits on my mother’s throne.
My throne.
The sight alone feels like a blade in my chest.

The guard hands him the letter. Shadoro reads it slowly, his expression twisting into something that pretends to be concern, though I can see the coldness behind it.

He speaks in a low, icy voice.
“Little girl, I gave you everything—safety, happiness, a home, and the throne. Yet you still ran from Nora. Why?”

That’s when something inside me just snapped, something I had been holding for weeks after The Broken.

“You didn’t give me happiness. This is my home—it always was. And you gave the throne to Nora, not me. Not Nyxaria. I despise you. And all the Shadrynns."

Shadoro exhales slowly, as if I’m a problem he’s tired of solving.
“Very well. Then you leave me only two choices.”

He holds up the last picture of my mother—her real smile, her real warmth—and my stomach drops.

“You may watch this burn,” he says, “and I’ll allow you to leave Aloria unharmed. Or this picture stays safe… if Nora takes the throne.”

I scream at him, at the guards, at the whole room—but none of it matters. I can’t give Nora my crown. So, I sit there, helpless, tears spilling down my face—tears of rage and grief—as Shadoro drops the picture into the fire.

The heat inside me surges so intensely that the guard holding my arm flinches away from my scorching skin.

And when the picture is nothing but ash, Shadoro throws the letter on the floor and lifts the Claw.
He smiles without warmth.

And he scratches me.

I was foolish to believe he would ever let me leave unhurt.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

Lyro MoonShadow

As I walk down the corridor, the guards bow their heads when I pass. I’m the future ruler of Aloria— Me, Nora, the name they gave me, the purpose they built into me. The crown from Shadoro rests in my hands, as if it weighs nothing at all.

Inside, I feel even less.

No memories.
No wants.
No dreams.

Emptiness doesn’t hurt. Emptiness is safe.

I stop at the training hall. Soldiers—children, really—move in perfect synchrony, all around my age-16. Their bodies bend and strike like parts of a single machine. But one boy breaks the pattern.

Lyro Moonshadow.

His movements are jagged, real, alive. he doesn’t flow with the others—he fights against the rhythm. When our eyes meet, something flickers inside me, something unfamiliar and unsettling. he steps toward me. I instinctively step back, bracing for an attack, but instead he lifts my hand gently and slips a folded note between my fingers.

The guards see. They seize him instantly, dragging him backward toward the Claw—its blade glinting, hungry.

Lyro twists in their grip, screaming,

“Read it! Please, read it! Save us, save Aloria!”

His voice echoes long after he’s silenced and shoved back into line, his movements now perfectly synchronized.

I turn away, the note burning cold in my hand. I feel nothing.

Or I tell myself not to.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

A million Memories

I return to my chambers and sit on my bed, hands still trembling from something I can’t name. Time drips past me slowly, thick and heavy, until I remember the note hidden in my palm. I unfold it carefully; almost afraid it might bite.

The words inside feel foreign, impossible—
Queen.
Nyxaria.
Broken.

Names and titles that mean nothing to Nora… yet they pull at something buried deep beneath the emptiness. I read the letter again. And again. My eyes trace the same lines until they blur, but nothing changes. Nothing makes sense. It feels pointless.

I stand to leave, but as I reach the doorway, the world tilts. A sharp dizziness crashes over me, and suddenly a storm of faces—memories—strikes all at once. A thousand lives, a thousand moments I never lived and yet somehow did, flood through me. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor, breath torn from my chest. And I remember- all of it. I remember Lyro Moonshadow, and I remember that we are in love.

When I rise, I rise on steady feet.

I might have fallen as Nora, but I rise as Nyxaria—
And I’m done being weak- No more chains. No more fear.
The only thing burning inside me now, is courage.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The pressing pain

I don’t know what to do next. Desperation drives me back to the training hall.

I wear my emptiest mask—stoic, unreadable—but it’s torture, every step a battle against the weight in my chest.

I find Lyro among the soldiers, his movements precise, calm. I force the words out.

“Lyro… please… what can we do to take back Aloria?”

His voice is gentle, almost distant.
“Take it back? But… it hasn’t been taken, and my name isn’t Lyro, it’s Leo.”

My chest tightens, a lump of grief I can’t swallow. Tears prick my eyes.
“Yes… it has! You have to remember! Queen Malaria… Princess Nyxaria… the Claw! It stole everything, made you obedient. It's... it’s...it’s evil!”

His gaze darkens, haunted, and his voice cuts sharper than any blade.
“The Claw helped me see what humanity could not. Specialness is chaos. Hope is fragile. And love… love is pointless.”

The words hit me like a hammer. I sob, shoulders trembling.
“Please, Lyro… I love you… don’t do this to me.”

He turns away, cold and final.
“But I… do not love you, and you should not love me, princess Nora”

Those words hurt me more than any knife could.

As he walks toward the exit, a choking silence fills the room, pressing down like a weight I cannot move. The clatter of swords and voices from the hall seems distant, muffled, irrelevant.

I sink to the floor, trembling, my hands clutching at my chest, and let the tears flow freely.

Each sob feels like a tiny fracture in the emptiness, a reminder of everything lost, everything stolen, and everything I still fight to remember.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The plan of pain

I soon realise that the only way to reverse the hollowness in anyone is to wield the Claw, and if I ever want to bring Lyro back, I have to steal it—even if it means brushing against death itself. I need a plan. So, in my Chambers I sit in the dim quiet for what feels like an eternity, thoughts circling like trapped birds, until at last, a spark catches. Slowly, I pick up my pen and begin to write…

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The letter of royalty

Dear Nyxaria,

If you’re reading this, then the worst has happened—
the Claw has touched you, hollowed you, stolen pieces of who you were.
You may not even remember writing these words.
You may call yourself Nora now or feel like a stranger in your own skin.
But listen closely: this is the part of you that refused to die, reaching back through the fog.

You have a plan.
You must save Lyro.
You must reclaim the Claw.
No one else can know.

The moment you rise again—truly rise—
you’ll feel the weight of who you once were press against your heart.
Don’t run from it.
Let it guide you.

Nora must fade so that Nyx can return.
Your fire, your fury, your strength… they’re still there, broken, but alive.

Take back the crown they stole from you.
Avenge Queen Malaria, who believed in you when no one else dared to.
And save our kingdom before it fractures beyond repair.

You wrote this as a reminder:
you were made for more than what they turned you into.
Find yourself.
Finish what began with love—and was stolen by force.

Come back, Nyxaria.
The Aloria still needs you. Lyro still needs you. I still need you.

And always remember this: for you to win, a sacrifice must be made.
Queen Malaria was that sacrifice—her life given so you could rise.
Make sure she doesn’t fall in vain.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

moving past death

I slip the letter into my pocket, praying I’ll never have to read it again. As I leave the room, I pause by my closet. My hand reaches behind the layers of dresses and nightgowns until I find the small dagger I hid there.

“Just in case,” I whisper—not really to myself, but to my mother.

The corridor outside feels colder than I remember. I’ve walked it a thousand times, as Nyx and as Nora, but tonight every step feels heavier, like the shadows themselves know what I’m about to do. My stomach twists, but I force myself forward.

When I push open the doors to the throne room, Shadoro is there—still slouched in my mother’s throne, irritation carved into every line of his face. He mutters something under his breath, too low to catch. I steady my breathing and tell him,

“Sir… Leo’s control is breaking. He’s… he’s slipping past the chaos. He’s remembering.”

It’s a lie—one that burns—but it’s the only lie that might save Lyro.

Shadoro stiffens. Within seconds, he rises from the throne, barking orders as his guards fall in behind him. The moment the doors shut behind them, I move. I seize the Claw—and run.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

Liberty for Lyro

I walk slowly toward the training room, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I’m ready to burst in and free Lyro, but I freeze when I see Shadoro still there, circling him like a hunter studying a trapped animal. His voice booms through the room, sharp and cold so everyone can hear:

“It must have been a brief flash of memory. He’s stable again. I’ll retrieve the Claw—just for safety measures.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Shadoro and his guards sweep out, heading back toward the throne room. I don’t even consider returning the Claw. Not now. Not when I finally have a chance. I will free Lyro, and we will escape Aloria together—with the Claw—and once we’re safe, then we’ll plan how to save everyone else. I sprint to Lyro, the glove trembling in my hand. I slip it on and scratch him with the Claw’s edge. A sting shoots up my arm, but the moment his eyes clear—really clear. Every bit of pain disappears. For the first time in far too long, he looks like himself. Lyro. My Lyro. Not the hollow, twisted Leo Shadoro tried to make him. He doesn’t speak. Neither do I. We don’t need to. We just run. We race through the halls, down toward the docks, shadows flickering around us. As we reach the open air, the wind catches Lyro’s dark curls, tugging them across his forehead. For a breath, I want nothing more than to grab him, hold him, kiss him—prove he’s back.

But not yet. Not now. Right now, we run for freedom.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The gift

We reach the docks, breathless and bruised, only to find a single boat—our one chance—surrounded by guards. Too many. Far too many. Lyro steps in front of me, but in seconds they swarm him, forcing him to the ground, blades raised, ready to end him right there. Something inside me breaks. Before I even understand what I’m doing, The Claw is already in my hand. I slash instinctively. A cold silence sweeps over the docks. One by one, the guards rise, blank-faced, hollow, and walk away—bodies moving, souls gone. But then… under the trembling wash of pale moonlight, I see it. Lyro. Bleeding. The mark isn’t on his face—it’s carved into his chest. A fatal strike. I drop to my knees so hard the wood cracks. Tears stream down my cheeks as my palms press against his chest, as if I can hold his life inside him by sheer force of will.

“Please, no… I’m so sorry, Lyro.”

His breathing stutters. His voice is gentle, unbearably gentle.

“It’s okay, Nyx. Go… get the boat. Save yourself.”

I shake my head violently, sobbing so hard it hurts.

“No, there must be another way. Please—please don’t leave me.”

And then—

Light erupts from my hands.

Warm. Blinding. Alive.
It pours into him, sealing the wound as though time itself obeys me. When it fades, he’s breathing easier. Alive.
My whole body trembles with relief and terror at what I’ve just done. Lyro whispers, almost awed,
“A gift from the Gods.”

I swallow, brushing a tear from his cheek.

“No… a gift from my mother.”

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

The creature

We race onto the boat, ready to disappear into the night, but as Lyro hoist the sails, the deck tilts beneath me. I stumble—just a heartbeat of imbalance—and the Claw slips from my hand, vanishing into the dark water.
without hesitation, Lyro dives in instantly. I jump off the boat to help, scanning the waves, praying. When he climbs back up onto the dock, dripping wet and breathless, he shakes his head.

“It’s not there. I can’t find it.” A cold shiver crawls up my spine. I turn—slowly, dread curling inside me—and there he is.
Shadoro. Alone. No guards. His eyes wild, his face twisted into something unhinged and hungry. He looks… wrong.
Driven.
Broken. I swallow hard.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

A cause of desperation

“What are you doing here?” I demand, my voice thin but steady.

Shadoro steps into the moonlight, alone, his eyes wild in a way I’ve never seen.
He smiles—slow, poisonous.

“I want what you stole. And I want Nora on the throne, not you. You are worthless… just like your mother.”

His words slice straight through me. For a moment, the world tilts—pain, anger, and something older than both tightening in my chest. But then I straighten.

“No,” I breathe, louder this time. “I’m not worthless. And that assumption… will be your downfall.”

He laughs, a rasping, broken sound.
“You think you can defeat me? Without the Claw? Without anything? Without your stupid boyfriend?”

My hand drifting toward the small dagger beneath my blouse.

He steps closer, confident, cruel. “You can’t even—”

I move before he can finish. All the hurt, all the fear, all the memories I’ve clawed back crash through me at once as I pull out the dagger—
and plunge it into him.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.

Epilogue

No one truly knows what became of Shadoro. Some claim they saw him dragging himself along the shoreline, the dagger still lodged in his ribs, leaving a smear of dark blood behind him like a warning. Others whisper that he vanished before dawn, swallowed by a fog that wasn’t there moments before. But someone says they saw him letting the ocean waves swallow him, till there was nothing left. Whatever happened, his tribe broke apart within days. Leaderless, frightened, they left Aloria, not that there was much left anyway.

Most of Aloria is free now. Some regained their memories in an instant, collapsing under the weight of everything that had been stolen from them. Others stare at familiar walls with unfamiliar eyes, trapped in a silence we still don’t know how to heal. Every day, we search for their stories—pieces scattered like shards of glass—hoping we can put them back together before time erases them completely.

With my mother gone, the throne fell to me. Aloria lifted me up gently, with hands that trembled but held on all the same. They welcomed me as their queen, not because they had to, but because they chose to believe in me. That alone feels like a miracle.

Lyro rules beside me. Loyal, steady, a constant presence in a world that still feels fragile. And we rule together, not as husband and wife, but as king and queen. Two survivors trying to shape something bright out of what’s been burned.

For now, peace holds. For now, the kingdom breathes.

But late at night, when the torches go out and the palace halls fall silent, I can’t shake the feeling that something is still watching. That Shadoro’s shadow didn’t die on that shore.

And the truth I’ve learned—the truth I cannot forget—is this:
even in peace, darkness waits.
Everything can change in the blink of an eye.

Comments for this chapter

No comments for this chapter yet.

Log in to add a comment.