The silence did not last.
Not in Solvyris. Not in the world shaped by flame and shadow.
After the cleansing of the Flamescar and the stilling of the Wellspring, Seris had expected respite. A breath of quiet. But the realm had other plans.
The Trial Bell rang at dawn.
A sound not heard in a century.
Its toll echoed through the Flameheart Citadel, through the mountain veins, through the hearts of every citizen of Solvyris.
The Sovereign's Trial had been called.
And it had been called not for Seris
but against her.
---
The High Chamber was carved into a circle of obsidian, each Elder seated in fire-etched stone thrones. Seris stood in the center, her crown absent by tradition, her blade sheathed at her side.
Before her, Elder Veyrin rose.
"You entered the forbidden vaults. You communed with a Flamescar. You offered the Sovereign's Crown to a forgotten one."
Seris didn't flinch. "I did what no one else dared."
Veyrin's tone sharpened. "And in doing so, you broke Pact Law. The Crown is not yours to give. Its flame is sacred, not political."
Ashra stepped forward from the shadows. "It was not politics. It was mercy."
"She is not on trial," Veyrin snapped. "The Sovereign is."
Seris raised her voice, not in anger, but in truth.
"The Pact was forged to restore balance. Not to bury the broken. We swore to protect flame and soul alike. If you wish to condemn me for honoring that vow, then do it openly."
Kaelen stood, fire dancing across his fingertips. "If Seris is guilty, then so are we. I stood by her. So did Arin. Ashra. Half of your own circle. Will you burn us all?"
Elder Maen's ancient eyes blinked slowly. "None of you understand what's coming. The Shadow is not gone. It slumbers, yes, but only in retreat. And your actions may have shaken its chains."
Seris met Maen's gaze. "Then let it come. But we will not fight it with shame and silence. Only truth can hold back the dark now."
A long silence followed.
Then Veyrin spoke again.
"By right of the Flame Pact, we call the Sovereign to Trial by Reflection."
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Even Ashra's voice wavered. "That rite hasn't been invoked in five reigns. It could kill her."
Kaelen stepped forward, furious. "You want her to face her own shadow? Alone?"
"It is the only path," Maen said quietly. "To prove that she still is Sovereign. Not just in title… but in soul."
Seris closed her eyes.
And nodded.
"I will walk the mirror."
---
The Ritual Chamber was prepared that evening.
The Mirror of Sovereigns stood tall and cold an ancient relic recovered from the ruins of Elaren's Vault. Said to show not your face, but your deepest fracture. Your greatest betrayal.
Seris stood before it, bare of crown, of weapon, even of flame.
Only truth would follow her inside.
Kaelen tried to stop her one last time. "You don't have to prove yourself to them."
She smiled sadly. "I'm not doing it for them."
"For who, then?"
"For the part of me that still wonders… if I deserve this."
She stepped into the mirror.
---
It was not a place.
It was a memory made flesh.
Seris stood in a field of ash—where the Ember Tree once bloomed. A figure knelt in the center, back turned. Familiar.
She approached.
The figure turned.
It was her.
Not as she was now—but younger. Afraid. Burned. Alone.
"I failed them," the girl said. "I let them die."
"No," Seris whispered. "You survived. You lived."
The girl shook her head. "And you forgot me. Buried me under titles and flames and thrones."
Seris knelt. "I never forgot. I just didn't know how to carry you. Until now."
From the ashes, the Sovereign's Crown appeared—not gold, but blackened, cracked. Broken.
Seris reached for it. The girl did the same.
Together, they lifted it.
And it turned whole.
The mirror shattered.
---
Seris stumbled out into the ritual chamber, gasping for breath. Kaelen caught her. Ashra steadied her crown.
Elder Maen rose solemnly.
"Verdict?"
Arin, who had waited by the flame-rune circle, spoke first. "She faced herself."
Ashra added, "And returned whole."
Kaelen: "No further words needed."
Veyrin hesitated… then bowed.
"The Trial is passed."
Maen nodded. "So be it. Seris Flameforged remains Sovereign of Solvyris."
Seris stood tall once more, flame rekindled in her bones.
Not because she had passed.
But because she had chosen to face the fracture.
---
Later that night, she stood again at the window of the Flameheart Spire.
Kaelen joined her, silent.
She reached into her robe and pulled out a shard of mirror—smooth and clear.
"I keep it," she said, "to remind me. The Sovereign is not above fear. She is fear, fire, and healing—bound into one flame."
He rested a hand on her shoulder.
"And you are not alone."
"No," she said softly. "Not anymore."