(I apologize for submitting something morbid at this time of year. It’s the urge to turn ideas around backwards to see what they look like.)

Torches in brackets along with fireplaces at each end of the hall lent light to the rough stone walls. Tapestries and other rich ornaments brightened the hall to some extent, but the mullionedwindows in the two longer walls showed nothing except darkness. On one side, it was natural, just the night view out over the moat and the grounds beyond. On the opposite wall,  the greater darkness was the unlit void, from which their ancestors where said to have come. Even though the assembled family members were accustomed to it, most tried not to look, Jocel had early decided she’d rather face it than have it lurking behind her back.

“And now we come to the important item”, said the Patriarch, looking with squint-eyed merriment at his tribe assembled around the huge banquet table.  “Who wants the crown?” He lifted it, golden, massive and gleaming as he beamed around at them. They did not beam back. His very young great grandson Kellan muttered to his cousin Jocel, “He never took it. Why is he so eager to pawn it off on one of us.”

“You’ll know why when you’ve been at one of the Culminations,” she murmured back, shuddering. She had been to only one, but remembered it too well, with the fire and the chanting. And then the screaming. And the distant cousin she had barely known and never saw again.

“Arlen?” the Patriarch asked. “You seem a worthy soul to crown.”

Cousin Arlen, big and burly, grinned ferociously, “Ah, but I am far from sinless. And perhaps the guard would . . . suffer from my absence? With so many enemies at our borders, Great-Grandfather, you wish that?”

What he said was very true, and Jocel was not at all surprised to see the Patriarch grin in return and cede the point. Obviously, it had been said in jest. She shrank harder into her seat, trying to be invisible. Females were rarely chosen for the crown, but it could happen.

The Patriarch’s eyes moved around the table, pausing at one or another frozen figure. They swept past her, and Jocel breathed again. But the eyes stopped at Killan. “Ah, such a good boy,” the Patriarch said softly. “Worthy, one might say.” His voice sank to a barely heard murmur as he added, “And so easily spared.” He beckoned, “Come, boy.”

Jocel couldn’t think past the ice in her heart. She wanted to shriek, but couldn’t, “No. It’s not fair. He’s too young, he doesn’t know.” Killan probably couldn’t see past the beautiful crown he was being offered. How could he know.

But he did know. He cried, “No, Grandfather, no. I thought you loved me.”

“It is not our way to love. As I thought you knew. But since you don’t, you are indeed the most fitting to wear this.”

Killan made a choking sound, sprang to his feet and raced towards one of the windows, slightly ajar and opening out onto the drop to the stone courtyard below.

“Stop him,” bellowed the Patriarch, and most of them raced to obey him. Jocel’s brain unfroze in a spurt of anger, She didn’t stop to look at the void-filled windows behind her; she had long ago inspected them and realized they would open—if anyone wanted to. She wanted. For a moment, no one was looking at the crown. She dove for it and scrambled back to a window. It stuck.  She seized the nearest bench and jammed it into the window. It opened. As hard as she could, she threw the crown through. And realized everyone in the hall had gone completely silent.

There was one flash of greenish light and then darkness again and dead silence. Jocel stared at the open window, wondering why the part that extended into the void looked as sturdy as ever, wondering what the opening might allows in. Perhaps something able to destroy her them all? But some of them didn’t deserve it. Carefully, she maneuvered the bench she could now barely lift so one leg hooked over the window’s latch, and she pulled it closed, and latched it. The she turned, wondering what awaited her. Perhaps she should have followed the crown out?

Everybody stared. Except her great-grandfather. He began to laugh.