The ride to Virelia's capital, Elowen, was long and silent. The scout—who introduced himself only as Captain Iren—kept a steady pace ahead of us, never speaking unless necessary. Rain slicked the roads, and the distant thunder seemed to mirror the weight pressing down on my chest.
Lyra rode beside me, her hood drawn low, eyes watching every shadow.
"You think they'll arrest us the moment we cross the gates?" she asked.
"They haven't shackled us yet. That's something."
But it wasn't reassurance. We both knew the politics of the Southern Reach were fickle. One moment you were a guest. The next, a hostage.
Virelia had long been Emberfall's rival in trade and power. Queen Rhianna had earned her throne through cunning and calculation—not blood. And if she believed I was a threat to her realm, she'd act without hesitation.
Elowen came into view just before dusk. The city sprawled across hills, its towers crowned with emerald-glass domes that shimmered even under storm clouds. The castle loomed at the center like a watchful hawk—sharp angles, high walls, and thorns carved into every parapet.
Fitting.
We passed under the portcullis without fanfare. No drums. No heralds. Just a dozen guards who met us at the stables and escorted us through slick marble corridors lit by blue witch-lanterns.
At last, we were brought to the throne room.
Queen Rhianna sat on a high-backed throne of dark iron, wrapped in a gown of forest silk. Her crown was a circlet of woven thorns, its center jewel pulsing faintly. Her gaze fixed on me as if peeling back my thoughts one layer at a time.
"Prince Kael of Emberfall," she said. Her voice was smooth, but it held steel beneath it. "You've crossed my border in haste, with a burned banner and no envoy. Why?"
I bowed. "Because someone wants you to think Emberfall attacked you. And because I need your help."
"A bold request, from a man carrying prophecy and fire."
She gestured, and the burned banner was brought forth.
"This was found at the edge of my eastern province. The farms there are ash. My scouts say it was your Flamebrand."
"It wasn't. But I know what caused it. A fragment of the old Emberbrand—one I've only recently awakened."
The Queen narrowed her eyes. "Then perhaps you are more dangerous than I feared."
Lyra stepped forward, bold. "If Kael meant you harm, he wouldn't come unarmed, with a spy at his side. He came because something darker is moving behind us both."
That earned a murmur in the hall.
Queen Rhianna rose from her throne.
"And what darkness would that be, girl?"
"A hidden war. Between the stewards who fear prophecy and the flame that defies their control. We saw what happened to the Temple of Broken Light. We saw visions of betrayal—of the mirror they shattered to keep the heir from rising."
The Queen's lips parted slightly.
"You saw the mirror?"
I blinked. "You know of it?"
She turned away, walking toward a high window. Rain tapped the glass like impatient fingers.
"My mother was a flame-seer. The last trained in Virelia before the stewards banned them. She believed the embered heir would rise one day—and that he would choose the fate of all three crowns. She died believing it."
The Queen looked back at me, this time not as a ruler—but as a woman guarding a truth too dangerous to voice.
"If you carry the brand," she said quietly, "then we are running out of time."
She motioned for the guards to leave the chamber.
"Come," she said. "There is something you must see."
---
She led us through a winding corridor lit by shifting flames. Each torch hissed as we passed, and I noticed strange runes carved into the walls.
We entered a chamber beneath the castle. It was round, domed, with a glowing sigil set in the center of the floor—identical to the one on the stone the flamekeeper had given me.
Rhianna knelt beside it.
"My mother called it the Heartfire Seal. When the embered heir awakened, this would pulse. Three days ago, it began to glow for the first time in forty years."
Lyra looked at me.
I nodded. "It matches the one I used to open the mirror."
The Queen placed her hand on the seal.
It flared.
And the room transformed.
A projection—hazy but powerful—rose from the seal. A map of the Southern Reach hovered in the air, formed of flame and smoke. Three crowns burned atop three regions. But one—Emberfall—was cracked.
"This," Rhianna said, "is a vision of the future as seen by the old flame-seers. Each crown represents a nation. When one falls, the others follow—unless the embered heir binds the fire to himself."
She turned to me.
"That heir is you, Kael. Whether you want it or not."
I clenched my fists. "Then what happens if I fail?"
"The fire dies. And with it, the balance holding our realms apart."
The vision faded.
I stood in silence, the weight of prophecy pressing down like iron.
Then the doors burst open.
A soldier stumbled in, blood on his tunic.
"Your Majesty—flames at the border. Black fire. It's not from Emberfall."
Rhianna's eyes widened.
"It's begun," she whispered.
I turned to Lyra. "We need to go."
She nodded, already moving.
But Rhianna grabbed my arm. "Wait."
She removed a ring from her finger—carved with twin thorns and a ruby flame.
"Take this. My seal. Show it to my allies in Caer Thorne. They still trust me. You'll need them."
I stared at her. "You're letting me go?"
"No," she said. "I'm sending you."
Her gaze turned fierce.
"Save the crowns, Prince Kael. Or none of us will have a realm left to rule."
---
Outside the castle, chaos had already taken root. Refugees streamed in from the east, smoke curling over the treetops. The black fire was unnatural—it consumed without heat, left nothing behind.
We rode hard through the night.
By morning, we reached the river border between Virelia and Caer Thorne.
And standing in our path were soldiers.
Not just any soldiers.
Emberfall's royal guard.
Led by Alric.
"Kael," he called, sword drawn. "You're under arrest for treason."
Lyra reached for her blades.
I didn't move.
Because the fire inside me had already begun to rise.
Not with rage.
But with purpose.
I raised my hand.
And the flame answered.