🕯️ Beneath the Throne
Mirell moved quickly through the hidden path under the palace. Her torch sputtered as she led Aaron down stone steps forgotten by the architects of the new kingdom.
> "This tunnel was built when the Skyborn still sat on the throne," she whispered.
"Your mother used it… to hide the truth they wanted to erase."
Aaron followed, his hand alight with blue flame. The darkness around them pulsed as if remembering her.
They reached an old door, sealed with runes — cracked but still resisting.
> "It needs your flame," Mirell said.
Aaron stepped forward and touched the center.
The lock didn't open. It surrendered.
---
đź“ś Inside: A Mother's Memory
The chamber was lined with dust, scrolls, broken books. At the center, a pedestal.
Upon it: a black-bound journal.
Aaron opened it.
First page, handwritten:
> "To the one who carries what they could not destroy —
Remember, child… the flame is not power. It is memory given form."
—Elira Vex
He clutched the book to his chest.
Mirell's voice broke softly.
> "They burned her body. But not her truth."
Then the stone above them shook.
---
🩸 Above — In the Council Chamber
Screams.
The doors of the Council Hall burst inward.
Royal guards — once sworn protectors — now moved with mechanical cruelty.
Their captain shouted:
> "By decree of survival, the Council falls!"
Blades flashed. One councilor fell before she could speak.
Frankfurt drew his sword and stepped forward — but was blocked by three guards at once.
> "Where is the Skyborn boy?" one hissed.
> "He sees you," Frankfurt said, eyes cold. "And that's enough."
---
🔥 Convergence
Aaron and Mirell emerged into a side corridor just as a masked assassin turned toward them — blade raised.
Too late.
Aaron's flame struck like lightning, twisting mid-air, slashing through metal and memory alike.
He looked at Mirell.
> "We take them down."
> "Alive?"
> "No."
---
🔚 Final Scene
High above, in the tower, Lucien watched the fire rise from within the palace itself.
He turned to a shadowed figure beside him — face unseen, voice hollow:
> "It begins now."
The figure nodded.
On his palm: a brand of fire in the shape of a split crown.