How to Fake a Kingdom

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Weight of Ruins

Silence reigned where once there had been war.

The Hollow King's fortress cracked and splintered, its monstrous spires groaning as the foundations buckled beneath their own impossible weight. Chains of molten light unraveled in the air. Rivers of silver cooled to jagged scars across the earth. High above, the sky churned—no longer burning with sickly green light, but not yet whole either. The stars remained hidden.

Elliott Fen stood among the ruins, the relic shattered at his feet.

Around him, the battlefield lay still.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime… the world was quiet.

Picking Up the Pieces

Marlow approached first, limping slightly, blood smeared across her temple.

"You did it," she said softly, voice carrying a mix of disbelief and exhausted pride.

Elliott barely heard her. His gaze was fixed on the fragments of the relic—golden shards glinting faintly in the dim light. Even broken, they hummed with residual power, like embers from a dying star.

Dorian hauled himself over the rubble, his left arm bound in a makeshift sling, face set with grim determination.

"We're still breathing," the swordsman reported. "Which is more than I expected after that… whatever that was."

Seraphine appeared beside him, bruised, bloodied, but smirking faintly. "I'm giving you a three out of ten on the landing, Fen. But points for style."

Elric stumbled into view last, clutching his singed spellbook, eyes wide behind his cracked spectacles.

"You shattered it," he whispered, staring at the relic's remains. "You actually shattered the relic."

Elliott finally tore his gaze away from the fragments, swallowing hard.

"It was the only way."

The Hollow King's Fate

Beyond the ruins, the Hollow King remained kneeling.

His mask lay in shards at his feet. The shadowy armor had melted away, leaving behind a man—pale, gaunt, eyes sunken with centuries of burden.

Elliott approached cautiously.

The Hollow King—once feared conqueror of realms, wielder of ancient magic—lifted his head. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

"You ended it."

Elliott didn't correct him. There was no point.

The Hollow King's gaze drifted to the golden shards.

"You think breaking it saved them?" His lips curled into a weary smile. "The cycle doesn't end. It only… pauses."

Elliott's jaw clenched. "I don't believe in cycles. Only choices."

The Hollow King chuckled—a hollow, broken sound.

"Then I hope your world… chooses wisely."

And with that… his form unraveled.

Shadow and bone disintegrated into dust.

The Hollow King—whose name was already lost to history—was gone.

The Price of Victory

They left the fortress behind as the ruins collapsed.

Ash and silver dust choked the air. The land groaned, reshaping itself as the fortress finally fell.

Their journey back across the Hollow King's domain was slow, painful, and marked by silence. No more constructs hunted them. No more beasts of shadow stalked their steps.

But the weight of what they'd done clung to them like smoke.

By the time they reached the barren cliffs where the Crimson Wraith had crashed, the sun—or what passed for it—had finally broken through the clouds. Dim, muted light bathed the wasteland.

The ship was beyond repair.

But they weren't alone.

Unexpected Salvation

A fleet of mismatched ships hovered along the horizon—pirate vessels, merchant skiffs, even battered smuggler craft. At their head flew the patched crimson sails of Indigo Voss.

The pirate captain stood at the prow, grinning down at them as her new ship—a stolen royal cruiser, judging by the fancy gold trim—descended.

"You lot look like you lost a tavern brawl with a volcano," Indigo called cheerfully. "Need a lift?"

Dorian sighed. "You couldn't have shown up twenty-four hours ago?"

Indigo shrugged. "Timing is everything, darling."

Despite himself, Elliott smiled faintly.

Leaving the Ruins Behind

They boarded the ship—battered, bruised, but alive.

As the vessel lifted off, Elliott looked back one final time.

The Hollow King's fortress was gone. The wasteland remained—a scar upon the world—but the oppressive magic that had hung over it like a noose was fading.

It wasn't victory in the storybook sense.

There were no grand parades, no instant restoration of shattered kingdoms.

But they'd survived.

And they'd given the world… a chance.

In the Quiet After

That night, aboard the ship, Elliott found himself alone on the deck, staring up at the stars.

Real stars this time.

The sky was still fractured in places, but healing—slowly, stubbornly.

Marlow joined him, leaning on the railing beside him.

"You broke the relic," she said softly.

"Yeah."

"Do you regret it?"

Elliott hesitated, watching the stars.

"I regret that it came to that," he admitted. "But I don't regret the choice."

She nodded.

And for a long time, they simply stood there—two exhausted souls beneath a healing sky, watching a world that still had hope left in it.

End of Chapter Twenty-Nine