The kingdom of Edrion, high among the western cliffs, had never knelt to flame.
Old, proud, and guarded by sky-forged gates, Edrion was the last of the Five Thrones to refuse Seraphira's summons.
Its King, Albrecht Valeiron, once called her a blight upon lineage, a cursed flame born to devour order.
He mocked her rise.
Dismissed her trials.
Declared the pact with the Underworld a betrayal of the living.
So Seraphira did not send another envoy.
She did not wait for diplomacy.
She brought the storm herself.
The gates of Edrion stood tall carved with prayers, layered with magic.
But even they could not hold against fire and wind.
When Seraphira arrived with the Skyborne at her back and the Witches' mark glowing down her spine, the skies themselves opened.
Lightning cracked the mountains.
Stormriders blazed through the clouds.
And the flame in her chest surged with every heartbeat.
Still, she did not attack.
Not yet.
Seraphira stood before the gates alone, cloak soaked, hair crowned in wind, and called out:
Edrion! Hear me now!
I have borne the trials you feared.
I have made pacts with the shadows you shunned.
I have been cursed, cast out, hunted and still I rise.
Do not kneel to my power.
Kneel to the truth you buried beneath your pride.
Within the high towers, King Albrecht heard the storm rage.
His advisors begged him to parley.
His seers trembled.
His soldiers dared not meet her eyes through the rain.
But it was his daughter, Princess Isolde, who finally said: Father, we were wrong. The flame is not what devours, it is what reveals.
The King looked at the stained glass cracked by thunder and saw his reflection distorted, old, and small.
He turned to his guard and gave one word: "Open"
The gates of Edrion opened at midnight.
Seraphira entered not with fire but with stillness.
No swords were drawn.
No threats were made.
The nobles lined the hall, silent.
The King descended his dais, crown in hand… and knelt.
Forgive my blindness, he said.
And teach us how to see again.
Seraphira did not take the crown.
She touched his shoulder and replied: You were not blind, you were afraid but the world cannot afford fear any longer.
That night, Edrion pledged its armies, its skies, and its libraries to her cause.
The last of the Five Thrones had fallen, not by blade…
…but by truth.
🌑 In the Underworld…
Kaelreth watched the storm fade from the obsidian mirror.
She did not conquer them, Malkor murmured.
No, Kaelreth said, eyes distant. She awakened them.
And for the first time in centuries, the Devil King looked truly unsure of what would come next.