They set out before dawn.
No airship could brave the Skyreach Cradle—only those willing to walk the edge of death itself. Jagged ridgelines curved like dragon spines through the upper reaches of Cael'Thorne, and the path to the vault was a relic of a forgotten age: narrow stone bridges, half-eroded stairways, and ancient weatherwards flickering in and out of existence.
Kaelen led the way, wrapped in his stormmantle, lightning humming beneath his skin.
Seris followed close, her own fire subdued but steady, wrapped tight in the blood-red cloak of her Emberguard heritage. Her boots crackled softly on the stones, the wind pulling at her hair as they climbed higher.
"This place feels like it remembers," she murmured.
"It does," Kaelen said. "The vault is carved into the bones of a fallen skybeast. They say its breath still haunts the winds."
She raised a brow. "You're not trying to comfort me, are you?"
He smiled faintly. "Would it work?"
"Maybe," she admitted, "if I weren't about to break into a sacred vault holding a crown that might kill me."
---
By mid-afternoon, they reached the final pass—a narrow causeway suspended between two cliffs. The wind here howled like a wounded god, and the sky had darkened to deep cobalt.
There, embedded in the cliff face, was the Vault of Echoing Wind.
It looked nothing like the Ember Vault. Where the Ember chamber had burned with crimson and obsidian, this vault shimmered with pale blue stone veined with silver. The door was a cyclopean circle carved with concentric runes that glowed faintly with electricity.
Kaelen stepped forward and placed his hand against the center rune.
Nothing happened.
He frowned. "It used to respond to Stormforged blood."
Seris joined him. "Maybe it needs more than that now."
Without hesitation, she raised her hand and pressed it beside his.
Flame met lightning.
The runes flared white—blinding, beautiful—and the stone ground apart with the sound of thunder.
The vault opened.
---
Inside, the chamber was vast and silent, lined with broken mirrors and bones of ancient beasts. At the far end, on a plinth of floating crystal, hovered the Second Crown—the Stormforged Diadem.
Unlike the Crown of Cinders, it was not fire but motion. A circlet of silver and skyglass, crowned by a halo of ever-turning winds. It pulsed with presence—restless, alive.
Seris stepped closer.
And the world tilted.
---
She was no longer in the vault.
She stood on a battlefield of sky—floating islands torn by storm and flame. Above, two queens faced one another across the skies. One wore the Crown of Cinders, the other the Diadem.
They were her.
Both of them.
Their armies clashed below—flame-wreathed beasts and lightningborn soldiers. Cities burned. The skies cracked.
The two Serises raised their hands.
Their powers collided.
And the world shattered.
---
Seris screamed as she tore free of the vision.
Kaelen caught her, pulling her back before she stumbled into the plinth. "What did you see?"
"The end," she gasped. "If both crowns are worn—if I become both halves—there is no binding. Only destruction."
Kaelen looked toward the crown, his jaw tight. "Then we destroy it now. Before it awakens further."
"No," Seris said, steadier now. "Destroying it won't be enough. Someone's already trying to unmake it."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "You mean… the Mirror Queen?"
She nodded. "She doesn't just want me to fall. She wants balance to fail. She's pushing for the end."
---
A sudden gust of unnatural wind slammed through the vault, nearly knocking them from their feet.
They turned.
A figure had entered the vault—a man cloaked in stormsteel, his face hidden by a helm etched with the mark of the fallen Skykin.
His voice was like cracking ice. "You should not be here."
Kaelen drew his blades instantly. "Who are you?"
"I am the Storm-Taken," the man said. "Sworn to protect the Diadem. Even from you."
He raised his hand—and the wind obeyed.
---
A blast of razor-sharp gales hurled toward them.
Kaelen dove, intercepting the brunt with his shield, while Seris rolled aside, flame igniting from her palms.
The Storm-Taken advanced with impossible speed, weaving lightning through his fingers, striking like a viper.
"Move!" Kaelen shouted. "We can't fight him here—he's tied to the vault!"
But Seris had stopped moving.
Because behind the Storm-Taken… the Diadem was glowing.
Responding.
> To her.
---
She stepped forward, fire and wind curling together at her heels.
The Storm-Taken hesitated for a second too long.
Seris raised both hands—and for the first time, flame and lightning twined as one.
The vault screamed.
A shockwave burst outward, hurling the Storm-Taken back into the stone wall, unconscious.
The Diadem spun midair and floated to Seris's outstretched hand.
She didn't take it.
Not yet.
But it knew her.
Kaelen approached slowly, eyes wide. "You didn't just resist it…"
Seris stared down at the crown.
"I matched it."