The Sovereign did not take kindly to rebellion.
Especially not when the flames that once bent to him were now rising against him.
From the Tower of Dread in the shattered north, he gazed through the shadows at the glowing city of Solcryst—where once his banner had flown, and now, firelight shimmered across the skies like defiance made manifest.
"She wears the Crown," he said, voice like a blade drawn across stone. "So… the bloodline lives."
Beside him, cloaked in shifting darkness, knelt a pale woman with silver eyes and venomous grace. Her name was Maerith, Hand of the Sovereign. Assassin. War witch. Devourer of hearts.
"She is no longer a fledgling, my lord," Maerith purred. "She is becoming something dangerous."
"Then burn the city," the Sovereign ordered. "Kill the Fire Queen before she believes the myth they whisper of her."
Maerith smiled cruelly and vanished in smoke.
---
In Solcryst, Lina stood in the Ember Hall war room as reports poured in.
Villages to the west had been razed.
Supply routes cut.
And worse—rebel scouts were vanishing without a trace.
"They're isolating us," Kael muttered, slamming his fist against the table. "They're preparing for a siege."
"No," Nyra said, voice low. "This isn't strategy. This is Maerith."
The name sent a chill through the room.
"The Sovereign's assassin?" Kael asked.
"Not just an assassin," Nyra replied. "A soul-hunter. She doesn't just kill. She erases—cuts people from memory, from legacy. She's a shadowstorm in human form."
Lina's hand curled into a fist. "Then let her come."
"She will," Nyra warned, "and she will come for you."
---
That night, Lina stood atop the palace balcony, staring at the burning edge of the horizon. Her flame whispered of danger. Of something watching.
"You're afraid," a voice said behind her.
She turned. Kael.
"No," she said. "I'm ready."
He stepped beside her, his eyes on the stars. "You always do that."
"What?"
"Stand there like a flame doesn't hurt you. Like the weight of all this hasn't touched you."
"It has," she said quietly. "But I have to burn anyway."
A pause passed between them—longer, heavier.
Kael hesitated. "If you don't come back from this… what do I do?"
She looked at him, truly looked. "Then light a fire so bright the Sovereign sees it every time he closes his eyes. And never let it die."
---
Maerith came at midnight.
The city went silent as smoke rolled across the gates, thick with illusions. Shadows danced through the streets, and fire wards flickered, dying one by one.
Nyra shouted orders.
Kael rallied the Guard.
And Lina…
Lina walked straight into the storm.
She found Maerith in the old Phoenix Chapel—standing beneath the shattered stained glass of the first Flame Queen.
"You look like her," Maerith said, stepping forward. "But weaker."
Lina ignited her flame. "Funny. You look like someone who's about to get burned."
They clashed.
Maerith moved like wind and venom, blades of shadow slicing through stone. Lina's fire countered, radiant wings protecting her, but Maerith's darkness wrapped around her mind—whispering her deepest fears.
"You will fail," Maerith hissed. "Your people will die. The crown will melt. Your ashes will be forgotten like all the others."
Lina stumbled.
But then—her flame pulsed.
From within, her mother's voice echoed: "You are more than flame. You are the spark that survived."
And she rose.
Lina's flames exploded in a burst of golden-white fire, burning through Maerith's illusions. She struck forward, blazing, wings spread, and light filled the chapel.
Maerith screamed as fire consumed her cloak, her face, her shadows.
And then silence.
Lina stood, panting.
Maerith was gone—banished, not dead. But wounded. And she had left a message scorched into the floor:
"He comes next."
---
At dawn, the people of Solcryst gathered again.
Lina stepped onto the balcony, her crown gleaming, her fire still burning.
"We were tested," she said, voice carrying like thunder. "And we did not fall. The Sovereign thinks he can strike fear into our hearts."
She raised her hand.
"We will strike back."
Flames burst from her palm, lighting the skies once more.
Not just a signal.
A declaration.
The war for the world had begun.