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Chapter 39 - The Beneath the Ash

The wind howled through the Virelian mountains as if mourning the truth Ariana was about to uncover.

At her side, Damian rode in silence, face etched with tension. Behind them trailed a dozen elite guards in black and silver. Kairo rode ahead, guiding the way.

The letter Ariana had found—her mother's hidden parchment sealed in flame wax—had spoken of a place "where fire does not burn, yet all truths are laid bare."

A forgotten Eldareth temple.

Ariana clutched the letter beneath her cloak, her mother's faded script now memorized:

 "If ever the fire within you threatens to consume the world around you, go to the Temple of Cyndara. It will show you what even I feared to see."

The path grew treacherous as they entered the volcanic crevice that had once been called the Ashen Rift. Cracked stone. Sulfur in the air. The trees here were all blackened stumps—burned centuries ago and never reborn.

"We're near," Kairo called back, dismounting.

They reached a sheer cliffside.

Nothing visible—until Ariana stepped forward, her palm glowing faintly.

The air shimmered.

A symbol carved in molten stone appeared: a flame twisted into a serpent biting its tail.

Eldareth.

She pressed her palm to the sigil.

The earth rumbled.

With a grinding sound, the cliff wall split open—revealing a staircase that spiraled downward into darkness lit by red crystals embedded in the walls.

Inside the Temple of Cyndara

They descended into the belly of the earth.

The temple was vast, ancient, and silent. Carvings danced along obsidian walls—images of flame-eyed queens, winged beasts, and a crown made of burning light.

Ariana stood in awe before a mural.

It showed a woman with her face—her mother, younger, flames rising from her hands, kneeling before a burning tree.

Below it was an inscription in the old tongue.

Kairo read it aloud: "The blood of Cyndara shall awaken the flame that once ruled kingdoms and scorched gods. She shall walk between love and ruin. The flame will test her. If she survives… she becomes the storm."

Ariana stepped closer. "My mother was more than a runaway queen. She was… chosen."

Damian's voice was low. "And now the flame tests you."

The Chamber of Mirrors

They entered a final chamber—a circular room ringed with mirrors. In the center stood a pool of still, black water.

Ariana felt pulled toward it.

When she touched its surface, it glowed—then rose into mist. Images formed.

Her mother, younger, crying as she left the temple. A faceless man holding her as she bled from the chest. Flames engulfing a child's cradle.

Then—Ariana herself. Crowned. Screaming. Alone.

She jerked back.

"Is that the future?" she gasped.

"No," came a voice—not Kairo's, not Damian's.

A figure stood at the far edge of the temple.

A woman in white flame. Eyes like molten gold.

Ariana's heart stopped. "Mother?"

The figure smiled. "I am only what she left behind. A flame-memory."

Ariana approached slowly.

"Then tell me… how do I stop the Circle?"

The memory answered: "You don't. You survive them. You burn brighter than they ever imagined."

And then she vanished.

As They Left

Ariana walked out changed.

Her powers simmered just beneath her skin. The fire obeyed her more now—fluid, focused, listening.

Outside, Damian took her hand. "What did you see?"

She didn't lie. "My mother. And something worse than death—failing to become who I'm meant to be."

He looked into her eyes. "Then you won't."

From behind, Kairo muttered, "You've awakened something ancient, Ariana. And I don't think the world is ready."

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