The Deadflame bowed.
And Aria didn't know whether to scream or kneel.
Kael stepped in front of her instinctively, blade drawn, flames crackling faintly across his fingers. "Back," he ordered the creature, his voice sharp with memories he had long tried to bury.
But the Deadflame didn't attack.
It watched.
"My queen," it said, voice a whisper of bones breaking in winter. "The pact is fulfilled. I am yours again."
---
The Pact That Never Died
"Explain," Aria demanded, stepping past Kael. "What pact?"
The Deadflame raised a skeletal hand. The ember in its chest pulsed, and visions spilled into her mind unbidden.
A battlefield.
Dead Flameborn lay in heaps.
Nyira, bloodied and cornered, stood over a sigil drawn in her own blood. Around her, the earth groaned with death.
"Give me vengeance," she had whispered.
The Deadflame had risen from that sigil.
A weapon. A curse. A final failsafe.
"I am the fire that does not die," it said in the vision. "Bound to your name. When you return, I shall rise."
The memory vanished.
Aria blinked, heart hammering.
"You're a revenant," she whispered.
"I am more," it rasped. "I am wrath, sealed beneath stone. You called. I answered."
---
Collapse and Betrayal
A shriek echoed through the city—then another, closer.
Kael turned. "They followed us."
From the northern corridor, armored soldiers burst through the tunnels—Crown agents. At least a dozen, their armor gleaming with black runes.
"SEIZE THE GIRL!" one shouted. "She is the Reborn!"
But the Deadflame stepped between them.
It opened its chest.
From within, a tide of shadow-fire surged, silent and violent, swallowing the first wave of soldiers before they could scream. Their bodies burned from the inside out, crumpling like wet parchment.
"Run!" the white-haired librarian shouted. "The city is falling—he's drawing power from the Echoes!"
"No," Aria said. "We need what's left of the records. The truth. The—"
The library ceiling cracked.
Another quake.
Crystals shattered. The throne in the center began to split. One by one, the floating books disintegrated into sparks, as though trying to escape.
The Deadflame looked to her. "What is your command?"
"I…" Aria swallowed. "Protect Kael."
"Always."
---
The Fall of Ivennox
They fled into the deeper tunnels—Kael guiding her through stone passageways lined with rotting torches and forgotten glyphs. The city groaned around them. From above, muffled battle cries echoed.
"The Sovereign's here," Kael breathed. "Not in body—but through his proxies. His reach has always been deeper than we thought."
"What do they want?" Aria asked. "To kill me again?"
"No," he said. "This time, they want you alive. The curse broke their balance. If you claim your Flameborn heritage fully, the Crown will fall."
Another quake.
Stone split behind them, and molten rock gushed through a broken wall, flooding the corridor in fire.
Kael grabbed her arm, pulling her into a side chamber. The door slammed shut just as the flames roared past.
They panted in the dark.
The silence between them burned hotter than the fire outside.
"You okay?" Kael asked.
She met his eyes. "I'm tired of running."
"Then stop. Make them run."
---
A Soul Remembered
In the chamber they found a broken statue—half its face missing. It wore a Flameborn crest. The eyes, though carved from stone, were familiar.
Nyira's brother.
"He was real," Aria whispered. "I thought I'd imagined him. A dream… a shadow…"
Kael looked away. "He died protecting you. The last time."
She turned sharply. "You said you never told me what happened."
"I didn't. I still shouldn't."
"Tell me now."
Kael stared at the statue.
"He begged you to flee. Said he'd hold the gates. But you stayed. Fought with him. Until they both died." His voice dropped. "I held his body while you bled out beside him."
Aria touched the stone.
The rage she'd felt as Nyira—the helplessness—rose again.
"They erased him from the records," she whispered. "Erased all of them."
"Then write them back."
---
The Path to the Throne
The escape tunnel curved upward—toward the old palace ruins. Kael led the way, firelight dancing across his back. Aria followed, blood singing with magic and memory.
When they emerged, the sun had begun to set. Smoke rose in the distance.
But they weren't alone.
A figure stood by the broken courtyard fountain, back turned, cloaked in gold-thread robes.
Kael froze.
Aria frowned. "Who—"
"Zavien," Kael hissed.
The man turned.
Golden hair. Eyes like frost. A blade across his back too elegant for the battlefield.
"Brother," Zavien said.
Kael stepped back. "You died."
"No," Zavien said. "You did. I rose."
---
Fire and Blood
Zavien's blade gleamed as it left its sheath.
Aria stepped between them. "What do you want?"
"You," Zavien said. "The Crown wants you delivered. But I… I want to see what my brother bleeds for."
"You won't touch her," Kael growled.
"Then stop me."
Kael lunged, blades clashing in a burst of sparks. Flame and frost collided as the brothers fought—years of hatred and betrayal written in every strike.
Aria backed away, hands glowing.
Zavien shouted, "You followed a ghost, Kael! A cursed soul! While I rose to command the Obsidian Guard!"
"You serve a tyrant!"
"I became one!"
The fight raged. Kael faltered.
Zavien's sword sliced across his side.
Aria screamed.
Flames erupted from her palms—gold and crimson.
She struck Zavien with a blast of raw magic, sending him flying into the shattered fountain.
He laughed through blood. "Good. You're becoming her."
Then he vanished into smoke.