The silver fire would not extinguish.
Kaelen lay on the stone floor of the war tower, his chest rising in shallow gasps. The wound pulsed with mirrorlight, tendrils of cold flame creeping through his veins.
Seris pressed her palms to the scorched skin, willing her own fire into him—not to burn, but to purify.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
But her magic recoiled from the wound.
Mirror flame corrupted. Twisted. It didn't fight fire—it consumed it. Turned it hollow.
Arin appeared beside her, dragging a healer through the smoke. "We need to move him. The tower's breaking."
Below, Solvyris burned. The Mirror Queen's rift had unleashed chaos—wards failing, the sky fractured, shadowbeasts clawing through the veil between realms.
This was no longer an invasion.
It was a reckoning.
Seris stood, fire coiling up her arms like a second skin.
She looked at Kaelen, then to the broken sky.
"No more hiding."
---
They took Kaelen to the Emberheart Sanctum—a place reserved for flamebound monarchs in their final rites. But Seris was not ready to let go.
Alaryss paced nearby, crown abandoned on a table.
"You can't stop mirrorfire with healing flame," the queen said. "It's not a wound. It's a claim."
Seris's voice cracked. "Then how do I un-claim him?"
There was silence.
Then Ashra entered.
"I know of one fire that consumes the mirror completely," she said. "But it's not one you're meant to wield."
Seris turned to her. "What is it?"
Ashra hesitated. "The Third Flame. Neither light nor shadow. Born of love… and sacrifice."
Arin's breath caught. "You mean—"
"Yes," Ashra said. "The fire of soulbinding. The kind that burns you down to your core, and remakes you."
Alaryss stiffened. "That rite was banned."
"Because it kills most who try," Ashra said.
Seris was already standing. "I'll do it."
"Seris—" her mother stepped forward.
"I've felt it," she whispered. "When Kaelen touched me. When we fought. When we burned. There's something more in us than just magic. I won't let him die without trying."
Ashra stepped forward, drawing a dagger carved from obsidian glass.
"Then you must give a piece of your flame… to him. Permanently."
Seris nodded, teeth gritted.
"Then kneel."
---
The rite was older than the thrones.
Ashra carved a spiral of flame-sigils into the stone. Seris knelt at the center. Kaelen's body was placed across from her, breathing faint, heart stuttering.
Ashra drew a line of fire between them, whispering, "From one soul to another. From fire to storm."
The blade glowed red.
"You must give willingly. And he must accept, even in unconsciousness. If he rejects your flame…"
"He won't," Seris said.
Ashra handed her the blade.
Seris looked down at Kaelen, her heart in her throat. Then she cut her palm—deep.
Flame poured from the wound, not like blood but like song. It rose in golden threads, curling toward Kaelen.
"Take it," she whispered. "Take me."
For a heartbeat—nothing.
Then Kaelen gasped.
And the fire roared.
It leapt from Seris to him, golden light flooding his chest, consuming the mirrorflame in a blaze of soul-deep magic. His eyes opened wide—storm meeting flame.
Their bond locked.
And for one eternal moment, they were not two people—but one.
Then it faded.
Kaelen breathed.
Alive.
Whole.
Seris collapsed.
---
When she woke, hours had passed.
Kaelen was at her side, holding her hand like it was something sacred.
"You did it," he said.
She smiled weakly. "We did."
He touched her cheek, reverent. "Seris… something's changed."
She felt it too.
There was a new fire in her veins. Not just the Ember Flame. Not just rage or magic. Something deeper.
The Third Flame.
She sat up slowly. "The Mirror Queen won't stop. She wants the Crown. But I think it's more than that. She wants me to take it… because it changes you. And if I do without understanding what I am now—she wins."
Kaelen nodded. "Then let's find out what you are."
---
That night, in the hidden Vault of Origins, Ashra led them to the last sealed tome of the Flame Sovereign.
Seris placed her hand on the cover.
It opened.
And inside was not a spell.
But a map.
A journey. A path to the Pyreal Wellspring—a forgotten forge said to burn with the fire of creation itself.
Ashra whispered, "The Sovereign never ruled with power alone. She forged her flame anew—where the world was born."
Seris stared at the map, resolve like steel in her spine.
"To stop the Mirror Queen… I must become something greater than heir or queen."
Kaelen stepped beside her.
"You must become Sovereign."