The moment Saren entered the valley, the forest fell silent.
It was as though the world held its breath for the twins—Seren, the Queen of Flame, and Saren, the Shadow of the Silver Fire.
The moon hung low above the temple, casting long shadows across the ancient stones. Mist crept along the ground, swirling at his feet like spirits drawn to the fire within him.
He stood at the temple's threshold, the mark on his chest burning hot beneath his tunic.
"She's here…"
His fingers trembled. For years, he had trained in silence, surrounded by spirits and riddles, told to wait. Told he would know the moment.
This was the moment.
---
Inside the temple, Seren sat in silence, her hands resting above the basin's still waters. The fight had left her drained, but it wasn't just the magic. It was the truth. The realization.
She wasn't alone.
He was real.
Not just a myth, not just a whisper in her dreams. Her twin—her blood—was alive.
She felt it now, clearer than ever.
The pull.
The unexplainable bond that hummed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.
"He's coming," she whispered.
Kael turned from the broken archway he'd been guarding. "Are you sure?"
She looked up, her eyes glowing faintly.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
---
Outside the temple gates, Saren stopped at the fire-basin that guarded the entrance. Flames danced over its surface, then parted as he neared, recognizing his soul.
The spirits of the gate stirred.
One whispered, "She has your eyes."
Another hissed, "And your fire."
"I know," Saren murmured. "And I need her."
He stepped forward.
But the wind turned cold.
Shadows coiled at the edge of the woods.
The Covenant had not retreated entirely.
A new figure stepped from the trees—a woman cloaked in bone-white robes, her face hidden beneath a veil of silver chains.
She bowed mockingly.
"Prince of Ash," she said. "You're early."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're one of Melara's Shades."
"I am the First Shade. And my Queen cannot allow you to reunite with your flame."
"She's not my flame," Saren said. "She's my sister."
The Shade tilted her head. "Same soul. Same threat."
And then she moved.
---
Inside the temple, Seren staggered, clutching her chest.
Kael was at her side instantly. "What is it?"
"Saren—he's under attack."
"Outside?"
"Yes."
Nyara readied her bow. "Then we're going out."
"No," Seren said, her voice hoarse. "Let me go alone."
Kael looked at her, concern darkening his features. "Seren—"
"This is our moment. If it's broken by bloodshed, if the first thing he sees is war—it could shatter everything."
She took a breath and stepped toward the exit.
"Stay hidden. If I scream, burn everything."
Then she walked into the night.
---
Saren's flame collided with the Shade's magic mid-air. Silver fire met tendrils of ice-darkness that stank of rotting promises. He ducked beneath her sweeping blade and countered with a blast that scorched the grass to glass.
"You can't stop this," he growled.
"You're a weapon, boy. You think your sister's hands are clean?"
Saren paused, just long enough for her to strike his side.
Pain lanced through him.
But then—the fire flared.
Behind the Shade, a voice rang out.
"Step away from him."
The Shade turned—too slow.
Seren's hand was already outstretched. Her fire launched like a beam of light, striking the Shade squarely in the chest. The woman screamed, her body engulfed.
When the flames cleared, ash rained to the ground.
---
Silence.
Saren turned, breath ragged, blood on his tunic.
Seren stood before him.
For a long moment, they just stared.
Her eyes, mirror of his. Her face—his, if it were softer, worn by grace and grief.
Neither moved.
Then Seren whispered, "Saren?"
His voice broke. "Seren."
And they ran to each other.
The embrace wasn't elegant. It was desperate. Raw. Her arms around his neck, his arms crushed around her back. The fire in both of them flared and crackled, not in chaos, but in harmony.
The night itself seemed to pause.
This was not just reunion.
This was restoration.
---
Kael, Nyara, and Laziel watched from the shadows, silent.
"That's him?" Laziel asked softly.
Kael didn't answer. His jaw was tight.
"Is that jealousy I smell?" Nyara teased.
Kael turned away. "Not jealousy. Fear."
"Why?"
"Because the moment those two are truly together—nothing in this world will stop them. And that means every enemy they have will try."
---
Later, inside the temple, Saren sat before the basin while Seren tended to his wound. It wasn't deep, but she fussed anyway.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?"
"For being the one who lived with our mother. For being the one who wore the crown. For not knowing."
Saren looked at her.
"Do you think I wanted that?" he said. "I spent years wondering if you existed. They didn't let me speak your name. I wasn't allowed to ask. I thought maybe I was just half of a lie."
"You're not," she whispered. "You're the half I've always been missing."
The basin between them pulsed.
And suddenly—images bloomed.
Visions.
Flashes of the past.
---
The day they were born.
The Dragon Queen weeping, holding two infants in each arm.
A prophecy burned into the air: When the twins of fire unite, kingdoms will fall or rise.
The Council of Flame arguing. Some wanted both children dead. Others wanted them split.
Melara's face. Cold. Calculating.
"I will raise one," she had said. "You send the other to the woods. If prophecy cannot be killed—then let it be delayed."
---
The vision ended.
Seren gasped.
Saren clenched his fists. "She knew all along."
"She lied to all of us," Seren whispered. "But not anymore."
They stood together.
Side by side.
Queen and Flame.
Sister and Brother.
And somewhere far in the mountains, Melara felt the shift.
Her glass cracked.
"Too late," she murmured. "The fire has touched."