***
I didn't think the stone walls of the monastery could feel warm, but tonight—after everything—we breathed differently.
Not in relief.
In silence.
In a fragile kind of peace.
Seraphine was still healing, her ribs wrapped tightly beneath layers of enchanted gauze. The healers worked in shifts, but I stayed through them all. Sleep didn't tempt me. The girl in the next chamber—my daughter—was the reason why.
Calienne hadn't spoken since Calista was purged from her soul. She stared at the moonlight through the tall window like it was whispering to her. When I entered her room, she didn't turn.
"Do you hate me?" she asked quietly.
I crossed the room. Sat beside her.
"No," I said. "But I hate what they made you believe."
Her throat bobbed. "I wanted to kill her."
"I know."
"She loved you… and I almost killed her."
"You're not alone in that."
She looked at me sharply, confused.
"I almost killed her too, once. With my silence. With my fear. Loving someone means you're always dancing too close to the fire. And we're Flamebloods. We were born to burn."
Her lips curved, just a little. A flicker of hope.
I pulled her into my chest, arms around her small frame. She didn't resist.
Just whispered into my shoulder, "If I lose myself again…"
"You won't," I promised. "Because now, you're not alone."
***
Later that night, I returned to my chamber.
Seraphine was awake, leaning against the bedframe, dressed in nothing but a linen wrap across her ribs. Her legs stretched out over my side of the mattress. She arched a brow.
"Took your time."
"Someone had to make sure our daughter wasn't planning another soul-fueled detonation."
Her expression softened. "Is she okay?"
"Haunted. But trying."
She patted the mattress beside her. "So are we."
I climbed into bed, careful not to jostle her injuries.
She wasn't as careful.
Her hands slid up my bare chest, fingers brushing across the faint runes still glowing beneath my skin.
"I remember what this body feels like in battle," she murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "But I like it better like this."
I cupped her cheek, brushing my thumb over her lip.
"You're still healing."
"Don't care."
Her mouth found mine, slow at first, but it deepened with something raw—something aching.
She straddled my lap, careful with her ribs, moving with delicious slowness. The soft press of her curves made my pulse stutter.
"Still think I made you weak?" she whispered against my lips.
I growled, gripping her hips. "No. You made me whole."
And as she rode me, sweat-slicked and breathless, our bodies tangled beneath moonlight and memory, I knew this was what we were fighting for.
Not thrones.
Not flames.
Just us.
***
At dawn, Kael stormed in.
"Desmond," he said. "We have a problem."
Seraphine groaned beneath the covers. "It's always a problem. Can't it ever be breakfast?"
Kael didn't blink. "There was a raid at the Border Temple."
I sat up. "Who?"
"They wore Flameblood crests," Kael said. "But they bled shadows."
That caught my full attention.
"Calista's remnants?"
"Or something worse," Kael muttered. "A fusion. The magic around them… it was fractured. Like they were stitched together from different bloodlines. You need to see it yourself."
***
We rode hard.
Kael, Seraphine, and I, with Calienne protected under a vault ward back at the monastery.
When we arrived at the Border Temple, the smell of death clung to the air. The once-pure flame of the sacred brazier was blackened, pulsing with sickly green hues.
Corpses lay scattered. Some Flameblood. Some... unknown.
"Gods," Seraphine whispered. "They melted from the inside out."
Kael stood over one of the fallen, examining the chest wound.
"No blade did this," he said. "This was soul-burn."
My fists clenched.
"Who has this kind of power?"
Kael met my eyes. "Only someone who touched the Heartflame."
The implication struck me hard.
"No," I said. "Calienne wouldn't—"
"She wouldn't," Seraphine agreed. "But what if something else escaped through her?"
Kael nodded grimly. "There are whispers of an ancient one. Before the kings. Before the flame."
I narrowed my eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Kael's voice dropped low.
"They called him the Ashen King."
***
The legend hit like a strike to the gut.
Before the Flamebloods, there were the Eternals—immortals bound by ash and ember, buried beneath the world when they tried to devour it.
The Ashen King had been their leader. A god who refused to die.
His soul had been shattered and scattered.
But now…
Kael's theory made too much sense.
If Calista had used the Heartflame to awaken Calienne, it might've also broken the barrier around the Ashen King's prison.
And now… he was bleeding back into the world.
***
That night, as we camped beside the ruined temple, I stood at the cliff's edge.
The stars above felt distant. Cold.
Seraphine joined me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
"You always do that when you're overthinking," she said.
"Do what?"
"Stare like you're about to carry the world on your back again."
I turned to her. "What if I can't win this one?"
She kissed my chest. "Then we lose together."
I smiled. "You're a terrible strategist."
She grinned. "And you're a beautiful disaster."
***
Suddenly, a pulse surged through the earth.
A whisper carried on the wind.
"He's waking."
My rune blazed.
Seraphine staggered back, clutching her head.
Kael came running from camp.
"We need to leave—now!"
"Why?" I shouted.
He pointed at the sky.
Where once there had been stars, now there was only smoke.
The sky itself was burning.
And at the center of it all, an eye opened—glowing with flame and shadow.
Watching us.