There are kingdoms built on gold, others on conquest.
And then there is Pyranthos—built on flame.
Perched atop the scorched cliffs of Solara, where molten rivers once carved paths through the world's crust, stood the obsidian fortress of the Pyranthos Dynasty. Regal, unyielding, and blazing with ancient enchantments, it was the ancestral home of the fire-blooded—rulers born with dominion over flame itself.
And at the heart of it all: Princess Mira of Pyranthos.
Seated on a curved balcony that jutted out into the wild winds, Mira watched the dawn unravel across the horizon like a spilled pot of saffron and rubies. Her long hair, the color of burning copper, glowed in the morning light, a halo of fire against her golden silk robe.
"Princess, they're here," murmured a maid behind her. "The suitors."
Mira didn't flinch. She had known this day would come. The Council of Embers—composed of her father's trusted nobles—had made it clear: her 22nd birthday would mark the ceremonial Choosing.
And the world had responded.
Princes, billionaires, warriors, and elemental nobles from the five corners of the known realms had sent their offers, their sons, and in one awkward case—a five-thousand-year-old immortal sealed in a ruby ring.
Mira had rolled her eyes. "That one gets points for originality," she had muttered to her best friend and bodyguard, Lys.
But behind her sarcasm was unease.
Every suitor came with ambition veiled in smiles. Political alliances. Magical mergers. Bloodline upgrades. Her worth—reduced to breeding fire with status. And though she bore the title of heir, the flames inside her had not yet awakened.
She was, in the words of the Whispering Papers, "a dormant princess in a dynasty of dragons."
"Lady Mira," called her father, King Arion of Pyranthos, his voice echoing through the hall like a crack of thunder. He stood tall in the Flamekeeper Robes, embers dancing around his crown. "Come greet your future."
Mira turned and stepped back into the crystal corridor, her heels clicking on the blackened marble. Every inch of the palace pulsed with heat—this was no ordinary kingdom. It was a furnace of secrets.
In the grand atrium below, the suitors were lined in ranks.
Lord Aurelian of the Tempestria Isles, master of storms, with sea-gray eyes and an arrogance to match his winds.
Prince Zehrin of the Shadow Courts, veiled in obsidian robes, rumored to command whispers and illusions.
Talon Drakehart, heir to a tech empire and secretly gifted with telekinetic flame—he claimed love at first sight in a viral press statement.
And then there was Jaxon Thalor.
Leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in understated navy and silver, he didn't bow or announce himself. He simply watched Mira with an unreadable expression.
Pyranthos history whispered of the Thalors—waterbloods, once equals, now estranged. To see one here felt like provocation.
"Your Highness," Jaxon said, finally stepping forward, "I came not for your throne, but your trust."
That earned a scoff from Prince Zehrin and a thunderous eye roll from Aurelian.
But Mira—she met Jaxon's gaze. And something in her core… flickered.
Not heat.
Not fire.
Something older. Wilder.
A memory that wasn't hers.
---
Flash of memory:
A golden temple on a cliff. A woman cloaked in fire.
A man made of water, falling to his knees.
"My Valeria," he whispered, "even gods cannot love without breaking."
---
Mira staggered slightly, and Lys caught her arm. "Another one?" she whispered.
Mira had been having visions. Dreams. Whispers in the flame.
But this… this was a full-blown echo.
She inhaled sharply. The air tasted of salt and ash.
Later that night, as the suitors were shown to their chambers and the ballrooms filled with music, Mira stood alone in her private chamber, facing the ancient Ancestral Mirror.
Her reflection shimmered… and for a split second, she saw someone else.
Eyes of molten gold. A crown of flame.
Valeria.
Her.
Not her.
And behind her, in the reflection—Jaxon, drenched in seawater, holding a crying infant wrapped in silver flame.
Mira clutched her chest, heart racing.
"What is happening to me?"
---
Would you like Chapter Two to continue at the royal ball where tensions rise between the suitors—and Mira starts hearing Valeria's voice more clearly? Or would you like to follow Mira and Jaxon sneaking away to talk privately about a past he seems to know more about?