Isla's footsteps echoed softly along the cold marble corridor.
Each step was careful but heavy, weighted with frustration and fear. The black stone in her hand remained cold, unmoved. Lifeless.
She had hoped for something—a flicker, a spark—anything to prove the gods hadn't turned their backs.But the stone stayed dark.
Behind her, the heavy doors of the royal solar creaked shut. The air inside still felt thick, charged with things left unsaid.
"You forget yourself sometimes," the King said, his voice a low, simmering warning.
The Empress turned from the window slowly. Her expression was composed, but her eyes sparked with defiance.
"Do I?"
"Isla isn't ready for this. And you know it."
She stepped forward, chin high. "I'm not plotting. I'm preparing her. She's stronger than you think."
The king's jaw tightened. "Stronger? Strength isn't everything. You're playing with powers beyond your reach. Filling that girl's head with illusions."
"You call it an illusion. I call it vision."
He moved closer. The space between them bristled. "The gods were clear. She's not the Flamebearer."
"And yet... the stone was silent. Not condemning. Silence isn't rejection. Maybe you just don't believe enough to hear what the gods truly said."
"I know what I saw," the king said, his voice thick with memory. "What I remember."
His tone dropped, shadowed by old grief. "You weren't there. Not in the fields after the massacre. You didn't see the flames devour everything we built. That's what comes from defying the gods. Is that what you want for Isla?"
The Empress tensed but didn't back down. "She deserves a chance."
"No. She deserves protection. She's not a piece in your game."
A soft knock cut through the tension. A servant entered, bowed, and handed the king a sealed scroll. "From Eldoria, Your Majesty. King Harran."
The king gave a curt nod and broke the seal. He read in silence. His expression didn't change, but something in his posture did.
He looked up. "King Harran sends his congratulations. Says word of the Flamebearer from our lands has reached him."
The Empress raised a brow. "So, the flames have stirred more than just our borders."
He continued, "He also writes that the Crown Prince is returning from the East. And..."He paused."He suggests the idea of an alliance."
The words hung between them.
The Empress's lips curled slightly. "A royal match. That could be... useful. If Isla cannot bear the flame, perhaps she can still light one elsewhere."
The king gave a dry laugh. "There it is again. One moment it's the stone, the next it's marriage proposals. Do you ever stop spinning your webs?"
"Is it wrong to think ahead? You hide behind tradition. I look for openings."
"And I see a mother turning her daughter into a tool."
Her smile faded just a little. "I want what's best for her."
"No. You want what's useful. There's a difference."
He turned to the window, eyes on the gardens below. "What you're doing to that girl has to stop. She's already doubting herself. Don't weigh her down with your ambitions too."
"She's a child of destiny."
"She's a child," he snapped. "Chosen or not, let her grow before you let her burn."
The Empress turned away, her voice soft and meant only for the fire in the hearth. "Then let's pray her spark lasts long enough to find its flame."
Outside, just beyond the archway, Isla stood frozen in the shadows. The cold stone pulsed faintly in her palm.
She looked down. Still dark.
But something was different.
Waiting.
And deep inside her... a flicker stirred.