The road westward ran red.
Ash still clung to Elaria's skin as they marched from the Vale. Kael flew ahead, his shadow cast over broken peaks, eyes sharp for ambush. Every breath she took reminded her of the Hollow Prince's blade. Every heartbeat rang with the warning in her dream.
Her sister was coming.
They reached the ruins of Velmark by moonrise—a once-prosperous city reduced to silence and rot. The people had long fled, the bones of their homes left behind. Elaria remembered laughter once echoing through its courts. Now only ghosts whispered.
"We rest here tonight," she told her soldiers.
Kael landed with a grimace. "This place feels wrong."
"It's supposed to," she said. "We're being watched."
They made camp inside the shattered cathedral, the stained glass broken, the altar scorched. Elaria sat where the priests once stood, the weight of leadership carving into her shoulders.
She was more fire than flesh now.
And she was not alone.
They came in the witching hour.
A flicker of silver mist, a sound like wind over bone. Then a woman appeared in the nave—tall, radiant, draped in violet silk. Her hair was Elaria's. Her eyes, a mirror.
Kael growled, fire rising in his throat.
Elaria stood. "Selyra."
The Mirror Queen smiled.
"Hello, sister. Still playing empress in ruins?"
Elaria's grip on her sword tightened. "Why are you here?"
"To finish what our blood began."
Selyra circled her, hips swaying, her voice a venomous lullaby. "Father bred two weapons. Only one gets to burn the world."
Elaria smirked. "You always did crave attention."
"And you always did crave him."
Her gaze flicked to Kael.
"Does he still whisper your name when you're inside him? Or has he tired of the scent of fire?"
Kael lunged. Elaria stopped him with a raised hand.
"You want a fight, sister? Or just attention?"
Selyra's smile vanished.
"You took my throne. Now I'll take your heart."
She vanished into smoke.
They didn't sleep.
Kael paced like a caged beast. Elaria meditated before a broken statue of a forgotten god.
"She's baiting you," Kael said.
"I know."
"Then don't take it."
Elaria opened her eyes.
"I have no choice."
They left Velmark at dawn. The sky was bruised. The land darker.
Their destination was Raventhorn, the fortress in the sky, carved into a sheer cliff by dragons in ages past. If Selyra wanted her throne, she'd come there.
And Elaria would make her bleed for it.
Raventhorn rose like a dagger. Carved into the edge of the world, its towers pierced the sky, its gates sealed by ancient dragonfire. Kael had helped build it.
They reached its base by dusk. Fire-blooded guards greeted them, eyes wide with awe at the queen's return.
"Prepare the gates," she ordered. "Set the wards. The Mirror Queen comes tonight."
Kael turned to her in the courtyard, armor steaming from a fresh shift.
"You know she won't come alone."
"Neither did I."
He stepped closer. Their foreheads touched.
"I'll kill her if she touches you."
She smirked.
"No. You'll hold her down. And I'll finish it."
Night fell.
Raventhorn burned with blue flame. The air shimmered with protective spells. Elaria stood in the throne room, sword sheathed, eyes closed, heart steady.
Selyra came with a storm.
Lightning split the sky. Thunder rolled over the mountain. A wave of silver-armored soldiers rode air currents into the gates—mirror blades drawn.
Kael roared and took flight, flames painting the dark.
Elaria marched to the gates.
There, in a gown of smoke, Selyra stood beneath the full moon.
"Nice tower," she said. "Shall I crown you here, dear sister? With your own bones?"
Elaria stepped down the stone stairs, boots echoing.
"Let's not pretend. You didn't come to conquer. You came to compete."
Selyra's eyes flared. "And I'm going to win."
Their blades clashed.
Magic crackled between them. Fire and frost. Light and void.
Sisters, yes.
But only one would walk away.
Kael kept the mirror army at bay, wings carving wind, flames searing steel.
But it was Elaria and Selyra who fought like gods.
Back and forth, through the throne room, across the skybridge, onto the cliffs where dragons once wept.
Blood. Bruises. Magic torn from marrow.
Selyra struck Elaria across the jaw. Blood sprayed.
Elaria slammed her into a pillar.
Selyra screamed.
"You always had the world's love, Elaria! And you wasted it!"
Elaria punched her in the throat.
"You want it? Take it from my corpse."
Selyra pinned her.
"Gladly."
Their lips collided.
It was not love.
It was war.
Teeth. Tongues. Fury.
Blood smeared their mouths.
Then Selyra bit her.
Hard.
Elaria screamed.
And threw her off the cliff.
Silence.
Kael landed beside her, bloodied, panting.
"Is she dead?"
Elaria stared down the chasm.
"No."
She touched her wounded shoulder. "She'll climb back up. Stronger. Angrier."
Kael wrapped his arms around her.
"Then we'll be waiting."
They stood on the edge of the world.
Below, the storm raged.
Later, they returned to the throne room. Alone.
He undressed her slowly, tracing each bruise, each cut.
She winced. He kissed.
He knelt.
"My queen."
"My beast."
He tasted her fire, she drank his shadow.
Together, they burned away the pain.
Their bodies moved with reverence. With hunger.
With something older than loyalty.
Older than war.
He carried her to the throne.
And there, he worshipped her.
Until her screams echoed through Raventhorn.
And the mountain remembered what power truly meant.
Far below, in the dark…
Selyra's broken body twitched.
Hands dragged her into shadow.
A voice whispered, "We can help you win."
Selyra opened one eye.
"Good. I want to kill a god."