Isla's footsteps echoed faintly down the cold marble corridor. Each step was careful, but heavy with frustration and fear. The black stone she held in her hand remained cold and lifeless unyielding, indifferent.
She had hoped for a flicker, a spark, anything to prove the Gods had not turned their backs. But the stone stayed dark.
Behind her, the heavy doors of the royal solar creaked closed. The air inside felt thick, charged with unspoken tension.
"You forget yourself sometimes," the King said, his voice a low, simmering warning.
The Empress turned from the window slowly. Her expression was composed, but her eyes sparked with defiance.
"Do I?"
"Isla isn't old enough for these schemes. And you know it."
Marellia took a slow step forward, chin raised.
"I am not scheming.
I am preparing her. She's stronger than you think."
The King's jaw clenched.
"Stronger? You think strength is all it takes?
You play with things beyond your reach. You're feeding that girl with illusions."
"You call it illusion, I call it vision."
He stepped closer now, the space between them sharp with heat.
"The Gods have spoken. The stone refused her. She is not the Flamebearer."
"And yet the stone was silent, not condemning. Silence is not denial. Perhaps you lack the faith to hear what the Gods truly said."
"No. I know what I saw. What I remember."
The King's voice darkened with old grief.
"You were not in the fields after the massacre. You didn't see the flames swallowing everything we built. That was the cost of defying the will of the Gods. Do you want to drag Isla into that?"
The Empress winched but held her ground. "She deserves a chance."
"No. She deserves protection. She is not a pawn for your ambition."
A soft knock interrupted them. A servant entered, bowed, and handed the King a sealed scroll.
"From Eldoria, Your Majesty. King Harran."
The King dismissed the servant with a nod, broke the seal, and unfolded the parchment. He read in silence.
His face didn't change, but something in his posture shifted.
He looked up at her Majesty. "King Harran congratulates us. Says news of the Flamebearer from our lands has reached him."
She raised an eyebrow. "So, the flames have stirred more than just our borders."
The King continued. "He also mentions the Crown Prince is returning from the East. And..."
He paused.
"He suggests the possibility of an alliance.
The words hung between them.
The Empress's lips curved slowly.
"A royal match. That could be... useful. If Isla cannot carry the flame, perhaps she can still light one elsewhere."
The King shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping.
"There you go again. One minute it's the stone, the next it's matchmaking. Do you ever stop weaving your webs?"
"Is it wrong to think ahead? You may bury your head in tradition, but I see opportunity."
"And I see a mother turning her daughter into a tool."
Her expression faltered just slightly.
"I want what's best for her."
"No, you want what's useful. There's a difference."
The King moved toward the window, gazing out over the gardens.
"Stop what you're doing to that girl. She's already questioning herself. Don't make her carry the burden of your ambitions too."
"She is a child of destiny."
"She is a child," he snapped. "Chosen or not, she deserves to grow before she burns."
Empress turned her back to him, her voice dropping to a whisper only the fire in the hearth could hear.
"Then let us pray her spark survives long enough to find its flame."
Outside, unnoticed and still lingering beyond the archway, Isla stood in silence.
The cold stone pulsed faintly in her palm.
She looked down.
It was still dark.
But it felt... different.
Waiting.
Somewhere, deep inside her, a flicker stirred.