The sea mist curled around the prow of the Ember Guard's vessel as it cut through the dark waters, the smoldering cliffs of the Ember Isles rising like jagged obsidian teeth from the ocean.
Kael stood at the bow, cloak whipping in the wind, the shard pulsing stronger than ever. Thalen joined him, eyes fixed on the looming volcanic fortress of Emberhold.
"This place was once a sanctuary for those bound to fire," the mage said. "Now it is a court of power and politics."
As they docked, warriors in crimson and gold greeted them, and Merek led the group up the molten steps toward the throne chamber. The air shimmered with heat; lava ran in channels like blood through stone veins.
Queen Amara awaited them beneath a massive obsidian arch. She was tall and regal, her black-and-scarlet robes flowing like flame, a crown of embersteel resting lightly on her brow. Her eyes burned—not with rage, but wisdom hard-earned.
"You carry the shard," she said to Kael, her voice echoing in the chamber.
"I didn't choose it," Kael replied.
"But it chose you. And that makes you dangerous."
Tension crackled in the air. Nyra shifted beside Kael, ready to draw steel.
Amara raised a hand. "Peace. I have no wish for war....not yet."
Over the next hours, they were fed, clothed, and questioned. Amara revealed her vision: uniting the shard-bearers before Malagar could seize them. She had found one other already an ice-wielding outcast from the north, now hidden deep within the isles.
But not all in Emberhold agreed. In the shadows, whispers of dissent stirred. A masked envoy from the mainland had arrived days before them an agent of Malagar.
That night, Kael wandered the lava gardens, the shard quiet for the first time in days. Lysara joined him.
"Do you trust her?" he asked.
"I trust her desire to survive. That's not the same as trust, but it will do for now."
Kael nodded. In the distance, the volcano's peak glowed faintly, like a sleeping eye.
Danger was coming.
And the Queen's court held secrets of its own.