~Third Person’s POV~

The crown was older than anyone in the room.

It sat on a cushion of deep grey velvet at the center of the archive table, and it looked exactly like what it was — something that had survived centuries by virtue of being made from materials that refused to yield. Hammered silver, worked into the shape of intertwining branches, set at intervals with stones the color of a full moon. It was not fragile. It was not ornamental in the way of things made purely for beauty. It ...