The flames in the Hall of Pyres burned lower now—not from exhaustion, but from reverence. At the center of the circular chamber, seven thrones stood in a wide ring, each one carved from a different element: obsidian for fire, crystal for water, stormstone for air, living bark for earth, mirrored glass for reflection, froststeel for ice, and voidbone for shadow.
Each throne was occupied.
For the first time in history.
Seris stood at the heart of the circle, the Sovereign's Crown resting lightly upon her brow. The Ember Pact flared behind her on the wall, its sigil now surrounded by six others—each one added by a realm that had once stood alone.
The Council of Crowns had been born.
Kaelen stood to her right, his hand loosely curled in hers. To her left, Ashra and Arin waited, both cloaked in formal flameweave, though their expressions bore nothing of ceremony. Only awe.
It had taken weeks to bring them here. Weeks of quiet negotiations, guarded messages, old grudges unearthed and soothed. But they had come.
Because the world could no longer afford its divisions.
The Icebound King, Elion, sat tall and silent on his throne of froststeel, his face carved from the stillness of winter. Beside him, the Tidecaller of the Sapphire Deep traced wave-patterns on the arm of her sea-glass seat. The Warden of the High Wind sat with one leg propped over the other, his eyes watchful, never still. Earth's ambassador was a woman cloaked in moss and root, her skin lined with golden lichen. Reflection sent no queen, but a Mirrorblade—silent, featureless, bearing a thousand faces. And from the realm of Shadow… a child. Pale-eyed. No name. No title. Just presence.
Seris swallowed.
She could feel the weight of every age in this room. Every mistake. Every triumph. Every fear.
And still, she stepped forward.
"We were born from separation," she said, her voice carrying on the breath of flame. "Each realm—each element—taught to fear the others. Told that union was weakness. That balance was surrender."
She raised her eyes.
"But we are here. Now. Together. Not to rule. But to restore."
No one spoke.
So Kaelen did.
"The Shadow has not been destroyed," he said. "It has been understood. For now, it slumbers. But hunger does not die—it waits."
Ashra stepped forward next. "Then we cannot return to what we were. We must become what we were meant to be."
Seris lifted her hand.
The Ember Pact sigil behind her ignited. Its flame danced with hues not only of red and gold—but silver, blue, green, and deepest violet.
"This Council," she said, "is not a show of unity. It is its forge. From this day forward, no realm shall stand alone when the world we share begins to crack."
A deep rumble echoed through the chamber. Not threat. Not resistance.
Agreement.
The Tidecaller rose. "We will lend our tide to this tide."
The Earthspeaker followed. "And our roots."
The Windlord. "And our skies."
The Mirrorblade bowed slightly. "And our reflections."
Even Elion, with his glacier gaze, offered a slight nod. "And our silence."
Finally, the child of Shadow stood.
No words passed their lips.
But a ripple of stillness moved outward—pure and deep.
It was consent.
---
Afterward, the hall emptied in silence. Not hollow, but sacred.
Seris stood alone in the center, gazing up at the ancient dome.
Kaelen returned with two cups of emberwine. She took one, and for a moment, they simply stood—two tired hearts, two steady hands.
"Do you think it will hold?" he asked.
"The Pact?"
"No. All of it."
She considered.
"Maybe not forever. But long enough for the world to remember what it means to breathe without fear."
Ashra passed by them with Arin in tow, both laughing softly. The sound echoed gently, like music through stone.
Kaelen turned to Seris, brushing a thumb against her jaw.
"You've changed everything."
She leaned into the touch. "No. We did."
---
That night, a quiet gathering took place on the Flamebridge—just the four of them. Seris, Kaelen, Ashra, and Arin.
No titles. No formalities.
Just friends.
They watched the stars for a while.
"I never thought we'd live to see this," Ashra said.
Arin smirked. "I didn't think you would. You used to lecture me for dreaming."
"I still do," she replied dryly. "But now I dream too."
Seris closed her eyes, listening to the wind carry laughter into the distance.
There would be more battles.
More reckonings.
But tonight, there was peace.
And that was enough.