The temple shook.
It wasn't an earthquake—not quite.
It was rage.
The Ember Circle had discovered the Kindled's plot. The city below was already echoing with shouts, bells, and fire bursting on rooftops.
Aryelle stood in the temple corridor, red glass casting molten patterns across her face, as chaos bloomed around her like a flower in heat and ash.
Kael came running from the stairwell. "It's begun. The Ember Circle's calling it a purge."
"Of the Kindled?"
"No. Of everyone."
Below the temple, the Ember Circle dragged anyone wearing gray or hiding in shadow into the open square. Fires had been lit in the center. A stage was rising.
"Blood for loyalty," Priestess Laien cried, arms raised.
Aryelle stared from the balcony. "This is not what I wanted."
"This is what they wanted," Kael said, voice low. "Worship is just fear with better branding."
"We have to stop this."
Kael hesitated. "If we do, we make enemies of both sides."
Aryelle looked down at the flames.
And she chose.
The Square
She walked straight into the firelight.
The Ember Circle froze.
The Kindled looked up, stunned.
Even Laien blinked. "Flamebearer—this is a holy rite."
Aryelle raised her hand. Flame ignited in her palm. Not wild. Not angry.
Controlled.
"This is murder."
Laien's voice turned sharp. "They conspired against you."
"They feared being used. So do I."
Aryelle stepped up onto the platform beside the prisoners.
Kael stood at the edge, watching, ready.
Aryelle lifted her voice.
"If you worship me only when I burn your enemies—then I am not your queen. I am your excuse."
The crowd stirred.
Aryelle turned to the bound Kindled.
She cut the rope.
Gasps.
One woman fainted.
Laien stepped forward. "You defy the prophecy."
"I define the prophecy," Aryelle said. "I'm not the fire you control. I'm the fire that walks away."
She turned to the crowd. "I am not staying. Not here. Not under chains made of thorns and prayers."
Then she stepped off the stage—and the flames parted before her feet.
They rode out by dusk.
Kael, Aryelle, and Halric.
The city burned behind them—not by Aryelle's hand, but by the war she had ignited simply by being there.
Halric whistled low. "That was dramatic."
Kael looked over. "She does that."
Aryelle didn't speak. She watched the horizon, where the mountains bled into cloud.
"Where to now?" Halric asked.
Aryelle answered softly, "To where the Crown waits."
Kael turned his head. "You think you're ready?"
"No," she said. "But I think it's tired of waiting."
Far away, in the Frost Queen's citadel…
The sky turned a pale, unnatural blue.
Vaerra stood at her tower's edge, frost coiling around her lips like breath.
"She's moving again," the Queen whispered.
The stitched-eyed assassin behind her bowed.
"The next gate is open."
Vaerra smiled.
"Then send the Hollowfire Monk. It's time she learned what fire truly fears."
***
The forest didn't whisper.
It listened.
That was the first thing Aryelle noticed.
No birdsong. No wind. Just the sound of things holding their breath.
Witherdeep stretched before them like a scar in the earth—trees tall and too-straight, their trunks gray as ash and stripped of leaves. The canopy didn't block sunlight—it devoured it, swallowing rays until the forest floor lay in eternal dusk.
"Tell me again why we're going in there," Halric muttered.
"Because one of the Crown's Seals is here," Kael replied.
Aryelle raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is a Seal?"
"Think of it like a lock," Kael said. "Each Seal keeps the Crown dormant. If we find one, we either weaken the cage—or walk into its teeth."
"Wonderful," Halric grumbled. "Let's all skip into the jaws of doom."
Deeper into the forest
The air grew colder, thicker. Time felt slower. Aryelle couldn't shake the feeling that something walked behind her… perfectly in step.
Once, she turned fast—nothing.
And yet, she knew.
Something was watching.
Kael moved like he'd been here before. Shadows clung to him, but not with fear—with familiarity. As if the forest knew him.
Aryelle finally asked, "Why does it feel like this place is alive?"
Kael stopped.
"Because it is," he said. "This forest was cursed by the Crown's first bearer—when she died, her grief took root in the trees."
Halric scoffed. "That's not how trees work."
Kael didn't smile. "These ones do."
The Hollow Grove
Hours later, they entered a clearing.
No birds. No animals. Just hundreds of dead trees… all hollowed out. Clean. Perfectly smooth.
Aryelle stepped into the center.
And something rippled.
Not sound.
Memory.
She saw flames—hers. She saw snow—Vaerra's.
And then… a third vision.
A figure, kneeling before a tree that bled golden sap. Hooded. Hands burned black. The Seal hovering before them—shaped like a six-pointed thorn-star, pulsing with ancient power.
Aryelle staggered back.
Kael caught her.
"You saw it?"
She nodded. "The Seal. It's close."
Kael glanced at the trees. "No. It's here."
Then the forest moved.
Branches twisted. Bark groaned.
And something stepped from the shadows.
Clothed in wet, black robes. A hood over its head. Where its face should've been was nothing—just a mirror. Empty, silvered glass. Reflecting only Aryelle.
Kael's voice dropped. "The Hollowfire Monk."
Halric gripped his blade. "That's the assassin Vaerra sent?"
Kael nodded. "He doesn't speak. He reflects. He shows you what you fear most."
Aryelle stepped forward.
"I've seen my fears."
Kael grabbed her wrist. "Not like this."
The Monk raised a hand.
Aryelle's vision fractured.
She saw herself on a throne of bones.
She saw Kael at her feet, bleeding, whispering, "You did this."
She saw flames devouring Halric's body, heard villagers screaming her name—not in worship, but in terror.
She screamed.
Kael stepped in front of her—his shadow ripped away by the Monk's aura.
He staggered—but didn't fall.
"Get the Seal!" he shouted.
Halric dove for the bleeding tree—the golden sap had begun to swirl, forming the thorn-star symbol in midair.
Aryelle forced herself to move. Step by step. Vision flickering.
The Monk raised a second hand—
And fire rushed toward her.
Aryelle didn't run.
She reached into herself.
Into the brand.
The flame answered.
It roared.
Golden fire burst from her palm and collided with the Monk's spell midair—splintering it. Shards of heat and fear flew in all directions. The Monk stumbled, cloak smoking.
Halric grabbed the Seal.
The moment he touched it, the forest screamed.
The Seal vanished.
So did the Monk.
Just like that.
Gone.
The trees stopped groaning.
The silence returned.
Except now, it wasn't watching.
It was waiting.
They stumbled back to camp that night—scarred, shaken, but alive.
Kael sat by the fire, arm bleeding, silent.
Aryelle sat beside him.
"You saved me," she whispered.
"You touched a Seal," he replied.
They stared into the flames.
"What happens when we find the next one?" Aryelle asked.
Kael didn't blink.
"One step closer to the Crown."
"And then?"
He turned to her.
"Then we find out if you're the world's savior…"
He hesitated.
"Or its executioner."