The Pyranthos Palace sparkled that morning like a gem under the sun. In the grand dining hall, the royal families had gathered once again. Crystal chandeliers swayed above tables lined with gilded cutlery, elemental sigils carved delicately into each plate and goblet.
Mira had barely touched her breakfast.
She wore a deceptively calm expression, her fiery-red hair braided down her back with gold thread. Her posture was flawless. But inside, a tempest brewed.
Across the hall, Prince Rihon of the Wind Court attempted to balance a buttered roll on his nose, much to the horror of his mother, Queen Lyselle.
"Mira, he looks like a circus act," whispered Princess Elira, Mira's cousin and most trusted ally. "And that one's supposed to marry you?"
"Technically, they all are," Mira muttered. Her eyes flicked toward Prince Kaelen of the Earth Dynasty, who was arguing with a servant about how the soil in the palace gardens was "improperly enchanted."
Elira laughed. "If we planted half these suitors in your rose beds, we'd get a crop of golden idiots."
Mira smirked. "Useful only for entertainment."
But her amusement quickly faded. Somewhere between the elemental introductions and the nightly banquets, things had shifted. The Fire Council whispered of unrest. A shadowy figure had been spotted near the palace archives. And then there were the dreams.
Vivid. Repeating. Terrifying.
Visions of firestorms raging through familiar corridors. A burning crown. A voice—her own, yet ancient—screaming in rage.
Valeria.
The name echoed in her mind like an ember that refused to die.
---
Later that day, the royal suitors were led to the palace arena for a "friendly" competition of elemental prowess. It was tradition, of course. A chance to impress Mira. A chance to show off.
Mira sat on the central dais, flanked by her family, Elira, and a few select council members. She looked regal, bored, and entirely uninterested.
"First, Prince Jaxon of the Thalor Water Dynasty!" the announcer cried.
Jaxon strolled into the arena with a roguish grin and a lazy wave, as if it were all a game. Mira stiffened. She hated that she noticed how the sun caught the ocean-blue of his eyes.
He raised his hands. Water flowed from the twin fountains behind him, forming twin serpents that coiled and twisted in the air. The crowd cheered.
He winked at Mira. The nerve.
Then Kaelen stomped into the arena next, summoning a stone colossus that immediately collapsed due to poor construction. Dirt flew into Jaxon's face. The audience howled with laughter.
Mira laughed too. For the first time in days.
Prince Zeyr of the Shadow Clan, who had remained mostly silent, stepped forward next. He conjured illusions of Mira in the arena—each one showing a different version of her: warrior, queen, goddess.
Mira's breath caught.
Zeyr gave her a knowing look.
He knew something. Perhaps more than he should.
---
That night, the palace corridors were thick with silence. Mira wandered alone toward the temple wing. She couldn't sleep. Not after Zeyr's illusions. Not with the fire inside her humming louder than ever.
She passed the Hall of Flames, the oldest part of the palace. Her ancestors' spirits were said to linger here. The sconces on the walls flickered as she stepped inside.
A statue of Valeria towered at the end—flame-shaped eyes and a crown of molten gold.
"You cannot keep running," a voice whispered.
Mira spun around.
No one was there.
But in her chest, her heart pounded like a war drum.
Behind her, the statue's eyes glowed faintly. Red. Alive.
---
The next day, a message arrived. One of the suitors had vanished. Prince Veylan of the Ice Kingdom. His room empty. His guards unconscious. His elemental trace—gone.
Chaos erupted.
Some blamed spies. Others, a divine warning.
But Mira knew. Deep down. Something had awakened.
Elira grabbed her arm as soldiers stormed the courtyard.
"Do you think this has to do with your dreams?"
Mira didn't answer.
Because the fire in her veins was burning hotter than ever—and she wasn't sure if she was Mira anymore.
Or Valeria reborn.