Vienna, Austria — El'Raez Safehouse
The morning after Notre-Dame.
The safehouse was quiet.
The old stone walls whispered secrets from a war long past. La Reyna stood by a narrow mirror between two frost-rimmed windows. Outside, the Vienna fog clung to the air, refusing to leave—like the ghosts inside her.
She stared at her reflection. Her hair was loose, skin pale, but her eyes… those weren't Fathya's eyes. They belonged to someone who had buried that girl a long time ago. She wasn't the daughter anymore. Not the heir. She was what fire left behind.
The door creaked open. Inez stepped in, silent as always, carrying a wooden tray—herbal soup, a clean cloth, and an old letter folded carefully.
"You haven't eaten," Inez said softly, placing the tray down. "And I think… it's time you read this."
Reyna didn't turn. Her fingers reached out and took the letter. Her voice barely made it across the air.
"From my mother?"
Inez nodded once. "She gave it to me the night before everything burned. Told me to wait… until you bled for the truth."
⸻
Flashback — Brera, years ago
Rain tapped the rooftop. Little Fathya hid behind her mother's velvet armchair, watching through frightened eyes.
Isalyn sat on the floor, blood running down her arm. She held a letter close to her chest.
"If I don't come back tonight… give this to her," she whispered to Inez. "But not too soon. Only when she begins to forget who she is."
"I promise," Inez said, trembling.
And that night, everything turned to ash.
⸻
Now
Reyna sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the letter.
"My dearest child,
You were not born to be someone.
You were created—because someone had to carry the truth."
"Raezmir was not your father. But he protected us when no one else would."
"You were not born of love, but of choice. And you are not an heir—you are the last gate. But only if you choose to be."
Reyna blinked slowly, then clutched the letter to her chest. No tears. Just silence.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Everyone seems to know who I am… except me."
Inez stepped forward. Her weathered hands wrapped around Reyna's knee—firm and warm.
"I've known since the day I saw you take your first breath," she said. "But if you keep asking, 'Why me?'—you'll forget to ask, 'Who am I?'"
⸻
Afternoon — The Balcony
Lucien leaned against the rail, unlit cigarette between his fingers. Reyna joined him, eyes distant.
"You've been quiet," he said, watching the sky.
"If I speak now," she replied, "I might not stop."
Lucien didn't smile. He turned to her and gently took her hand—fingers cold but steady.
"If you feel like you're living someone else's story," he said, "then start rewriting the ending."
Reyna exhaled slowly. "They all see me as something—a weapon, a seal, a legacy. No one sees me as someone."
Lucien dropped the cigarette.
"I do," he said simply. "And if you can't carry that today… let me carry it for you."
She looked at him. The pain in her eyes was raw. But for once, she didn't look away.
"I'm tired of being the fire everyone fears," she murmured. "I just want to feel… human."
"Then let's burn quietly," Lucien said. "Together."
⸻
Nightfall — Vienna Station
Inez stood on the train platform, clutching Reyna's coat before letting go. Lucien walked beside Reyna—not holding her, but walking in sync.
Reyna carried no luggage. Only a single silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist—her own choice, not a symbol of bloodline, but a reminder she was still alive.
As the train prepared to leave, Inez whispered to herself:
"I did not birth her… but I know. Tonight, she is being born again."