The silence on the ember-lit path was not empty—it was watching. The embers under Ha-jin's feet flickered with purpose, each step echoing with a whisper not quite hers.
"Do not stray. Do not trust. Do not speak the truth aloud."
Her heart pounded, a steady war drum against the walls of her chest. The shadows surrounding the ember path shifted and swirled, as if alive. With every heartbeat, the flame at her core responded—stronger, hotter, deeper.
A voice slithered through the darkness, ancient and cold.
"Daughter of forgotten fire... do you even know what burns inside you?"
Ha-jin didn't flinch. Her fingers tightened around the pendant that pulsed like a second heart.
"I may not know," she whispered, "but I will rise. I will reign."
A wall of black fog surged forward, swallowing the embers in front of her. Her breath caught. Something was coming. Not walking. Not crawling.
Hunting.
Suddenly—
CRACK.
The ground split beneath her feet, and she fell—no, was pulled—into the void.
She landed hard, gasping, eyes wide. She wasn't on the ember path anymore.
She was in a throne room made of obsidian and flame. Empty—except for one throne, carved from bone and crowned with fire. And seated upon it...
Her.
Or rather—a version of herself. Older. Fiercer. Eyes glowing with flame, a cruel smile on her lips.
"This is who you become," the mirror-queen said. "Unless you burn the lies you cling to."
Ha-jin backed away. "You're not real."
The mirror-queen stood. "Neither is your mercy. Remember what they did to your mother. Remember who watched her burn."
A scream threatened to tear through Ha-jin's throat. But then—
FLASH.
Images slammed into her mind: A palace in flames. A woman's outstretched hand. A masked betrayer. A secret letter soaked in blood.
Ha-jin fell to her knees, trembling. Who was she really? What truth had they buried so deep even her flame could not find it?
"You want to rule?" the mirror-queen spat. "You'll have to destroy everything first. Starting with yourself."
The throne room began to crumble. Fire spiraled around her. The mirror-queen laughed—a sound that sounded like Ha-jin's own voice screaming.
And then—
Black.
A whisper like a spell wrapped around her ears:
The air cracked with tension as Ha-jin gasped awake.
Her hands trembled.
She was back on the ember path.
But something had changed.
She had changed.
A searing mark now pulsed at her collarbone—a sigil of flame, ancient and cursed. It shimmered like molten gold, shaped like a phoenix coiled around a crown.
It wasn't just a dream. It was a warning—and a beginning.
Her legs felt heavy as she rose, but the ground beneath her guided her forward. The embers shifted in patterns, whispering secrets beneath her steps. Every flicker spoke in tongues only the flame-born could understand.
And then—she saw it.
A figure in the distance.
Cloaked in midnight robes, wearing a mask of bone, standing at the edge of a ruined gate.
The Gate of Reclaiming.
No one had crossed that gate and returned alive—not since the fall of the Ember Throne.
"You've come early," the figure said, voice sharp as shattered ice. "The curse inside you is awakening faster than we predicted."
Ha-jin narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
"Your fate," he said, stepping aside. "And possibly… your executioner."
Beyond him, fire-twisted ruins whispered her name.
The past waited there. So did her vengeance.
But before she could move—
BOOM.
The sky above tore open like silk, and black fire rained from the heavens. Screams echoed through the ember path—souls from the past?
No.
Spirits of the Rejected.
Ha-jin turned, her heart pounding. They were swarming toward her—faceless shadows, dragging chains of betrayal and memory.
Run.
But her legs refused. The mark on her chest blazed.
"You are the chosen," whispered a thousand voices, "but will you burn for the crown or rise to burn the world?"
Ha-jin made her choice.
She ran toward the gate.
The figure stepped back, almost… impressed.
"You may live," he murmured, "or you may awaken what sleeps beneath the Ember Reign."
Just as her foot crossed the threshold—
A blade pierced the sky.
A roar thundered through the realm.
Someone was watching.
And they did not want her to survive.
The gate pulsed with ancient energy.
As Ha-jin stepped past the threshold, a wind, warm and wicked, wrapped around her. Not a welcome—no, a test.
The ruins beyond were not silent. They breathed.
Shattered statues whispered long-forgotten truths, and the trees—twisted, leafless—dripped with molten amber that sizzled when it hit the ground.
And then it spoke.
Not a person. Not a ghost.
The throne.
It rose from the center of a scorched courtyard, blackened iron scorched with symbols that glowed the color of blood and flame. Chains surrounded it—broken. Guarded once by the Ember Knights. Now… abandoned?
No. Waiting.
As Ha-jin approached, her mark throbbed violently. Her knees nearly buckled.
"Why do you return?" a voice hissed from the shadows. It wasn't the masked figure. This voice was older, filled with rage and sorrow.
"Because this crown… was stolen from me before I was born," she said, breath trembling. "And I will take it back with blood."
The air split open with a shriek.
From the ashes beneath the throne, a hand shot out—burned and bony, dragging with it a figure cloaked in ember flame.
A wraith. A former ruler. A cursed soul of the past.
"You speak boldly, girl. But will you bleed boldly too?"
The wraith lunged.
Ha-jin didn't move. She couldn't. The flames inside her reacted on instinct.
The mark on her chest ignited.
A ring of crimson fire exploded outward, throwing the wraith back with a scream that echoed through the ruins like a death bell.
Everything went still.
And then she heard it—a whisper. No louder than her heartbeat.
"She's awakened."
Far above, on a floating cliff of obsidian stone, cloaked figures watched through enchanted glass. One of them, with pale golden eyes and a cruel smile, turned away.
"She's come back for the throne. Prepare the tribunal."
Another slammed a gauntlet into the table. "If she lives to the next eclipse, the prophecy begins."
The wraith screeched, its scorched face twisted in pain as it was flung backward by the force of Ha-jin's fire. The flames surrounding her danced, not chaotically—but with purpose, like a living force awakened from slumber.
The mark on her chest dimmed… but did not die.
She staggered, gasping, her vision swimming in a haze of red and gold.
And then—he appeared.
The masked figure stepped from the smoke, his silver blade humming with energy. The same voice from the temple now rang clearer, colder.
"You've touched the throne."
Ha-jin clenched her fists. "I didn't come to kneel. I came to take back what's mine."
The figure tilted his head, amused. "And yet… you don't even know what was stolen."
Before she could answer, the ground split open beneath her.
A shockwave roared through the ruins.
Chains exploded from beneath the throne, lashing out like vipers. One of them wrapped around Ha-jin's arm, yanking her forward toward the fire-lit seat. The throne pulsed. Her body burned—but it was not pain. It was… recognition.
The masked man didn't move to save her. He watched.
Watched as her body rose into the air, engulfed in crimson light. Her hair whipped like fire in a storm. Her eyes glowed, no longer human.
Memories not her own flooded her—crowns melting, betrayal sealed in blood, and a baby torn from her mother's arms under a blood eclipse.
And then she saw him.
A man with ember eyes and an oath carved into his back.
He whispered: "When she returns, even the stars will kneel."
Ha-jin screamed—not in fear—but power.
The chains shattered.
The throne bowed.
And the masked man… fell to one knee.
Not in submission.
But in warning.
"The tribunal will come for you now, Ember Queen."
The world froze.
A burst of light flared around Ha-jin. The flames wrapped around her like a cloak of royalty. Her voice rang out—not her own, but the voice of the lost queen reborn:
"Let them come. Let them burn."
The wind howled like the wails of a dying empire. The throne, once cold and lifeless, now pulsed with molten rage. Ha-jin's feet touched the ground, but she wasn't the same girl who entered the ruins.
She was awakened. Crownless, yet undeniable.
"She lives," the masked man whispered, his voice shaken for the first time. "After centuries... the Ember Reign begins again."
The skies cracked open as if Heaven itself was stunned.
But then—a cry cut through the flames. A child's scream. Piercing. Distant. Yet hauntingly familiar.
Ha-jin's breath caught. That voice... she'd heard it before. In her dreams. No—her memories.
"Who is that?!" she demanded, spinning toward the sound.
The masked man's eyes narrowed behind his veil. "You're not ready to know."
"I decide what I'm ready for!"
She stormed toward him, the ground beneath her sizzling from every step. Her aura blazed like a rising sun painted in fury.
But before she reached him, the earth trembled.
A summoning circle lit up beneath her feet—ancient, forbidden, cursed. The throne behind her erupted in tongues of fire, releasing something monstrous.
A figure cloaked in ash, with chains for wings, emerged from the void.
"No…" the masked man whispered. "It's too soon."
The creature spoke, voice like cracking stone: "I was promised your soul, Ember Queen. You owe me flame."
The air turned deadly. Time slowed. Ha-jin raised her arm—and the fire responded like it had a mind of its own.
But even as her flames circled protectively, she saw it.
Etched on the creature's chest—the same mark she bore.
What was this?
A twin?
A tether?
A test?
Before she could act, the creature lunged.
And everything—went black.