The cheers had faded.
But the fire remained.
King Theron sat alone in the council chamber, his crown resting on the table before him, not on his head.
Not today.
The hearth crackled quietly. Papers lay scattered and ignored. A goblet of untouched wine sat nearby, long forgotten. But it was the silence, the heavy, suffocating kind, that disturbed him most.
He had watched her.
Not just fight…endure.
He'd seen the eyes. The fire. The restraint.
And for the first time, he had truly looked at her.
That nose.
That chin.
Those eyes.
Too familiar.
He leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"It can't be," he whispered.
Seventeen years ago.
Seraphina.
She had walked into the court with defiance in her step and prophecy in her voice.
A healer.
A warrior.
A woman of wild magic and unshakable truth.
She had bowed to no one.
And yet he had loved her.
Foolishly. Desperately. In secret.
Until the night of fire.
The massacre.
The Empress came to him, sleeves stained with ash, eyes wild with fear.
"They planned a coup," she'd said. "Seraphina and her people. They wanted the throne."
The royal guard was dispatched and returned from the valley with charred spears and broken shields.
"No one survived, Your Majesty."
And he had believed them.
Worse, he'd given the order.
Now, as the fire danced behind his eyes, all he saw was Elara.
A servant girl, wrapped in flames, bowed to her.
The sacred beast knelt before her, not Isla, not the Empress, not even him, the King.
And those eyes, Seraphina's eyes, seemed to burn right into his soul.
"Could it be…?"
His voice cracked.
"Could she be...?"
A knock broke the silence.
"Enter."
Prince Kael stepped into the chamber, tall and composed, his dark armor gleaming beneath his cloak. "You sent for me, Your Majesty?"
The king did not answer immediately.
He studied the prince, King Harran's heir. Calculated. Sharp. Dangerous in all the ways a ruler should be.
But the girl the fire chose… stood brighter.
He waved a hand absently. "The court stirs. So do the flames. What do you make of it?"
Kael tilted his head. "I think… you've known the truth for longer than you're willing to admit."
The king met his gaze. Still. Unreadable.
Kael only smiled. "I saw the look on your face when she was standing in the fire."
"You think she's a threat?" the King asked.
Kael's reply was cool. "No. I think she's the only reason we might survive what's coming."
And then, with a low bow, the prince turned and vanished into the shadows.
Once he was gone, the king called for a name he hadn't spoken in years.
"Captain Roran."
A shadow stepped forward from behind the curtain.
Scarred. Weathered. Loyal.
"My King."
The king's voice lowered.
"Do you remember Seraphina?"
The captain's shoulders tensed.
"She was… fire," he said quietly.
"And the child she carried?"
The king stood. "This girl… Elara. She carries that fire."
Roran frowned. "You want me to find out anything in particular?"
"No, yes..." the king interrupted. "Learn everything. Quietly. But report only to me."
"And if the Empress?"
"Tell her nothing."
The captain bowed. "As you command."
Just as he turned to leave, the king added one last warning.
"Be discreet. Do not raise any dust."
The Empress paced. across the palace, in the royal apartments,
Isla lay on her bed, pale and still. Her hands trembled despite the healer's draught.
"She made me kneel," Isla whispered. "She stole the fire."
"Her voice was sharp as frost. She earned it," the Empress snapped.
Isla's eyes flared. "I was born to rule," you said.
The Empress turned, face cold. "You were born to fight. Elara… she was born of prophecy. But prophecy can be… redirected."
Isla pushed herself upright. "What do you mean?"
The Empress walked to the balcony. Her gaze drifted toward the horizon, her voice low and lethal.
"She may have won the court's awe. But they will never follow a queen born in shadow."
She turned slowly.
"We won't defeat her with swords. We'll do it with whispers."