Dawn broke not with sunlight, but with smoke.
The great bell of Vireth tolled thrice—an ancient signal meant only for one thing: internal rebellion.
Serenya jolted awake in the safe chamber beneath the old priests' library, her body aching from yesterday's battle. Kael and Selira were already armed, standing near the door as hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
"They rang the warning bell," Kael said grimly. "The Queen's blaming us."
Serenya sat up, heart thudding. "Is she accusing us openly?"
Selira held out a folded scroll—royal parchment, sealed with red wax.
Kael unrolled it, voice flat as he read:
"By decree of Queen Virelya, let it be known:
The traitor flames—Kael of the First Line, Serenya of the Hidden Sigil, and the outlaw Selira—
are hereby condemned for crimes against the throne and conspiracy with forbidden magics.
They are to be apprehended and executed by royal fire.
Their deaths shall preserve the purity of Solmar's legacy."
— Signed in blood and flame.
A heavy silence fell.
"She's declared us enemies of the throne," Serenya murmured. "There's no turning back now."
"No," Kael agreed. "Which is why we turn forward."
Selira's expression was unreadable. "What are you thinking?"
Kael turned to the large flame-etched map carved into the chamber wall. He pointed to an old sigil—a sun crossed by a shadowed crescent.
"This," he said. "The First Flame Bastion."
Serenya frowned. "That's a myth."
Kael shook his head. "No. It was real. A hidden citadel where the ancient Solmar kings trained the flamebound in secret. Before Virelya took power. Before the throne was corrupted."
Selira stepped closer. "That's where the Flameheart relic was last seen."
Serenya's eyes widened. "The relic that could crown a rightful heir."
Kael nodded. "We can't just defend ourselves anymore—we have to claim our right. If we find the Flameheart, we can gather the old bloodlines still loyal to the prophecy. Build an army. Burn the lies down to ash."
Selira grinned faintly. "You sound like a prince."
Kael's gaze was fire-steady. "I am."
—
Across the palace, in the war chamber, Queen Virelya stood before her commanders. On the long obsidian table, figurines marked the siblings' known locations.
"Seal every gate. Post archers on the high towers. Double the ashguard in the Inner City," she commanded.
General Tharion shifted uneasily. "And if the people question this hunt?"
"They won't," she said coldly. "I will remind them what happens when fire turns wild."
One of the younger guards approached, eyes wide. "Your Majesty… we found something in the western crypts."
He held up a torn tapestry—one she had personally ordered destroyed decades ago. It bore the symbol of the ancient prophecy: three flames entwined, one burning black.
Virelya's expression froze.
They've remembered the path.
She turned away, cloak billowing behind her.
"Ready the Flameborn Legion," she said. "I want their ashes scattered before the stars change."
—
That night, Serenya, Kael, and Selira left Vireth through a forgotten aqueduct beneath the garden walls. Cloaked, marked by magic, and shadowbound, they moved like ghosts.
As they reached the edge of the old forest, Serenya paused, turning back for one last look at the palace spires glowing in the distance.
"That was home," she whispered.
Selira placed a hand on her shoulder. "Now it's just a battlefield."
Kael stepped forward, sword drawn, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.
"To the Bastion. To the truth."
Together, the three disappeared into the forest as the last bells of Vireth tolled behind them.
And high above, unseen by all, a new star flared into existence—marking the first step of the true heir's return.