Hollow Crown: The Book of Envy

Lucian's breath came fast and shallow. His fingers twitched, aching as if they had already committed the sins laid out before him.

The other him—the Lucian shaped by Envy's hunger—stood among the flames, shadows writhing at his feet, his eyes void of everything but want.

"No..." Lucian whispered. "This isn't me."

The other Lucian tilted his head—slow, deliberate, mocking.

"Not yet."

And then it moved.

Lucian barely had time to react before his own reflection lunged. Shadows curled from its fingers, twisting into jagged claws that slashed toward his throat. He ducked—just barely—feeling the unnatural heat of the tendrils cut through the air.

Too fast. Too precise.

Lucian gritted his teeth. It was fighting like him—but better.

He sprang back, eyes scanning the battlefield. The burning village still surrounded them, the smoke clogging his lungs, but—was it real?

"Is this just another illusion? A test?"

The Book of Envy pulsed against his chest.

"Thinking won't save you."

His shadow shot forward, twisting like a snake. Lucian barely managed to roll away before it pierced the ground where he had just stood.

He had no time to breathe. The other him was relentless, pressing forward with an eerie calm, as if this fight had already been won.

Lucian had to attack.

He clenched his fists. He focused.

Take.

A rush of **energy, knowledge, movement—**Envy's power surged, grasping for something to steal. He lunged, reaching for his opponent—for himself.

And then—

Pain.

Lucian staggered backward, clutching his chest. His own power had been turned against him.

His shadow curled at his feet, unmoving.

The other Lucian smiled.

"Did you really think you could steal from me?"

Realization hit him like a hammer.

It was using the same Book. It had the same power. And it was already ahead of him.

Lucian panted, heart pounding against his ribs. He tried again, reaching out—anything, just one advantage—

The shadow speared forward.

His world went black.

---

Lucian awoke gasping, his body trembling, his mind still trapped in that battle. But the flames were gone. The village had vanished.

He was back in Veyren's study.

The old scholar sat in his chair, watching him with those half-lidded, knowing eyes.

"Tell me, Lucian…" Veyren's voice was soft, but its weight crushed the silence. "What did you learn?"

Lucian swallowed, his throat dry. "That I wasn't strong enough."

Veyren let out a small, tired chuckle.

"No, boy. You learned that you were never fighting."

Lucian stiffened. "What…?"

Veyren gestured lazily with his ink-stained fingers.

"You swung. You dodged. You ran. But did you ever stop to ask…"

His head tilted slightly, his hollow gaze pressing into Lucian's chest like a dagger.

"Who was in control of that fight?"

Lucian's blood turned cold.

Veyren leaned forward. "Lesson three: The moment you fight against Envy, you have already lost."

Lucian's hands clenched at his sides.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" His voice was low, desperate.

Veyren smiled.

"You don't fight it, boy."

"You learn to use it first—before it learns to use you."

Lucian's breath caught.

And for the first time, he understood.

This wasn't about resisting the Book of Envy.

It was about learning how to take without being taken.