The sky was split open.
Maravelle burned and bled beneath it. Fires roared through the ancient alleys; shadows fled into corners where prayers died unheard. Smoke curled like serpent tongues around the spires, swallowing light and choking hope.
And from the heart of it—
She came.
Elowen.
The queen who killed her sister, stole a crown, and cursed a bloodline.
She did not ride a horse. She descended.
Wreathed in storm-black silk, her cloak stitched with soul-threads, eyes like polished onyx. Her presence made the earth whimper. Glass cracked in windows without being touched. Children wept without knowing why.
She walked into Maravelle like death with a heartbeat.
---
The Unraveling
Eira saw her from the walltop.
And she felt it—not just fear.
Recognition.
She clutched the railing, flame dancing across her fingertips.
"She's here."
Kael joined her, sword dripping with shadow-blood. His face was cut, his jaw bruised, but his spirit… untouched.
"I'll kill her," he said, no hesitation.
Eira turned. "No. I will."
Their eyes met.
But before either could speak again—
A voice echoed across the city.
"Come down, little firebird. Let me finish what I started the day you were born."
Elowen was standing alone in the city square, arms raised, face toward the palace.
And the ground split open.
---
Kael's Bloodline
The rupture was not just magic.
It was blood-magic.
And Kael felt it burn in his veins.
He dropped to one knee, clutching his side.
"Something's wrong—" he gasped.
Naima rushed to him, her face ghost-pale. "It's time."
"What—what are you talking about?"
She didn't answer with words.
She placed her palm on his chest, and the mark—the one he'd always thought was just a birth scar—lit up like molten gold.
"You are more than soldier, Kael," she whispered. "You are the son of the Flamebearer. The last heir to the Ember Vow."
He choked. "My father was a blacksmith."
Naima's eyes glistened. "Your father died a blacksmith. He lived a prince."
Eira stood frozen, her mouth parting in shock.
Kael met her eyes.
"I didn't know. I swear—"
But she was already moving.
Because Elowen was inside the gates.
And the city would not wait.
---
The Duel
The palace steps became a throne of flame.
Eira stepped forward, her gown torn, crown askew, hands alight.
Elowen faced her like a reflection twisted by cruelty. Her own hair coiled like living vines, her lips bloodless, her gaze a void.
"You look like her," Elowen said. "Your mother."
"She died saving me from you." Eira's voice didn't tremble. "I remember it now."
"She died because she was weak."
"I'm not."
The air ignited.
They clashed—light against void, sunfire against soul-rot.
Eira flung flame like wings; Elowen split the sky with shrieking winds. The square trembled. Statues cracked. Time itself held its breath.
Kael tried to reach her—but the duel was sacred. Bloodline against bloodline.
Only one could survive.
---
The Choice
Elowen pinned her.
Dark roots curled from her hands, wrapping Eira's limbs, draining her fire.
"You are not a queen," she hissed. "You are a child with borrowed flame."
Eira coughed, her vision dimming. "Maybe."
And then she whispered something only Kael heard.
"Let me burn."
Kael understood.
He unsheathed the dagger Naima had given him—one forged from sunfire steel.
And threw it.
Eira caught it mid-air.
And stabbed it into the earth.
A shockwave of fire exploded outward—incinerating the roots, blasting Elowen back.
And when Eira stood—
She was not just fire.
She was the flame itself.
Hair ablaze, skin glowing, crown melted to her brow.
Elowen screamed.
And Eira walked into her sister's curse and broke it with a single touch.
---
Aftermath
Elowen's body crumbled into ash.
The curse broke.
The air cleared.
And Eira—swaying—collapsed into Kael's arms.
"I didn't burn away," she murmured.
He kissed her brow. "No, my love. You burned through."
The people watched in silence.
Then one by one… they knelt.