The blinding light vanished as swiftly as it came, replaced by an eerie stillness.
Airam stood in the center of the chamber, the staff still glowing faintly in her grip. The shadows that had poured in from the breach were gone—not defeated, but held, as if something about her presence rooted them in place.
"They're waiting," said the Custodian, stepping beside her. "They feel the Breath stirring within you. The First Order will not strike until they understand what you've become."
Airam lowered her staff, heart thundering. "And if I don't understand it either?"
"Then you must decide what you want it to be."
Behind her, Liam exhaled heavily, finally steadying himself. He stepped forward, placing a hand gently on her back. "We fight them. Together."
But the Custodian's masked gaze turned to him. "You may not survive what's coming, guardian."
Liam's jaw tightened. "That's not your call."
Airam turned, her eyes soft. "You're sure?"
He nodded. "I swore to protect you before I knew who you were. That oath hasn't changed. Not even now."
Airam looked away, gripping the staff. Her mind flashed back to the vision in the mirror—the two versions of herself. Fire and peace. Power and freedom. The choice still lingered.
Suddenly, the Custodian's head snapped upward.
"It begins."
The ceiling of the chamber rippled—stone turning to light. Above them, the stars dimmed… and then were replaced by seven burning sigils descending from the sky like comets. Each one carried a throne—and on each throne, a figure.
They did not walk.
They arrived.
Seven beings of impossible presence. One draped in flame, one in gold, another in smoke, another in silence. Each radiated ancient power, and each had eyes that held the weight of countless centuries.
The First Order had come.
The Custodian stepped in front of Airam and Liam, spreading both arms. "She is not ready!"
The tallest figure, cloaked in eternal sunlight, spoke. His voice shattered the silence.
"She was not meant to be ready."
He raised a hand—and the world cracked.
The chamber began to collapse, spiraling into shards of sky and ash.
Airam screamed as Liam grabbed her, shielding her from falling debris. But it wasn't enough. The platform beneath them shattered.
They plummeted.
The world fell apart.
---
Somewhere Else...
When Airam opened her eyes, she was lying in the middle of a desert. The sky above her was orange and red, the sun suspended unnaturally high and unmoving.
She sat up, sand clinging to her skin. There was no sign of Liam. No sign of the Custodian. No ruins. No flame.
Just silence.
Then a sound—footsteps, slow and careful.
She turned.
And saw a girl.
A girl who looked exactly like her.
Same eyes. Same hair. But younger. Unscarred.
The girl smiled. "Finally. I've been waiting for you."
Airam rose slowly, eyes wide. "Who are you?"
The girl tilted her head.
"I'm you. The version that never became queen. The one that chose freedom."
Airam's mouth went dry.
"You're not real," she said.
The other Airam just smiled. "Maybe not. Or maybe you're the one who isn't."
Then the ground cracked again.
And far, far away, on the burning horizon—seven thrones began to descend.
---