The aftermath of the Third Seal's shattering had left the Throned Valley smoldering.
Ashes drifted like snowflakes. The thrones, once silent monuments, now lay broken—scattered like relics of a forgotten age. And somewhere far beyond, something ancient had awoken.
Kael, Seraphine, and Vaerion moved through the mist like hunted beasts.
They didn't speak of the power Kael had wielded. Or how the sky had bent to his scream. Or how the molten creature had known his name—like it had been waiting for it.
Instead, they fled toward the ruins of Nerideth, a demon city long buried beneath vines, sand, and time.
According to Vaerion, it had once belonged to the Bloodbound—a clan sworn to protect the original royal bloodline.
Kael's bloodline.
They reached Nerideth by nightfall. Moss-covered towers rose like broken teeth. Silver fireflies danced above cracked stone, and the air hummed with dormant magic.
Seraphine moved quietly beside Kael, occasionally brushing his fingers with her own. She hadn't left his side since the seal broke. Since the creature called his name.
He looked at her now—truly looked. Moonlight kissed her skin, and her eyes held fire. Not the kind that burned. The kind that believed.
"Whatever you saw in that vision," she said softly, "it doesn't change what you are to me."
Kael swallowed. "You didn't see it, Sera. I burned entire cities. My name alone shattered a seal that had held for centuries."
"And still," she said, stepping closer, "you're the man who shielded me from fire before he even knew my name."
He kissed her forehead. "And I'll do it again."
A howl echoed from the western ridge.
Low. Mournful. Familiar.
Vaerion raised his blade instantly. "We're not alone."
Kael stepped in front of Seraphine instinctively. "Is it another cultist?"
"No," Vaerion murmured. "Worse. That sound belonged to the Blackfang Elite. Royal werewolf guards. The ones sworn to protect your stepfather."
Kael's jaw clenched. "But they should've died with him."
Another howl split the night.
Then a voice.
"Raezriel. Child of the true queen. Do not fear me."
From the fog stepped a lone figure—cloaked in black armor, fur-lined and stained with soot. His face was weathered, his left eye scarred shut, and a silver pendant hung from his throat: the sigil of Kael's mother.
Kael stiffened. "You… served her."
The man dropped to one knee.
"I am Commander Tharion, the last of the Blackfang sworn not to the false king, but to Queen Isolde of Embersong. Your mother. My queen."
A Mother's Final Message
Kael stepped forward, heart hammering. "You knew her? You… were there?"
Tharion nodded. "I was with her the night the castle burned. I held the last line so she could get you to the escape tunnel. She died protecting your name."
Seraphine stepped closer, watching Kael's face shift.
"I have something she told me to give you," Tharion said.
From his cloak, he drew a sealed scroll—scorched but intact. The wax bore the mark Kael remembered from childhood: a flame within a wolf's eye.
Kael broke the seal and read:
"My dearest Raezriel, if you are reading this, then I am gone. But you live, and that means hope survives. Trust your flame, but more than that—trust your heart. You were never meant to burn alone. You were born to light the way."
His hands shook.
There was more:
"Beware the girl of golden blood and sorrowed dreams. She will love you, and she will end you. Not by hate. But by fate."
He stopped breathing.
The Prophecy of the Golden-Blooded Girl
Seraphine leaned in. "What is it?"
Kael couldn't speak. He simply handed her the letter.
She read it.
Then again.
And again.
Her voice broke the silence: "Golden blood…"
Kael looked at her, eyes wild. "Your veins… your dreams… your parents always said you were born under an omen."
"I thought they meant I was cursed," she whispered.
Tharion bowed his head. "The prophecy was known among the court whispers. A human girl of golden blood would one day fall in love with the Flame Heir. And when her heart breaks, his power will consume him."
Seraphine turned to Kael, breath shallow. "You think I'm the girl?"
He didn't answer.
But in his silence—there was truth.
And fear.
The Choice That Waits
They camped in the ruins of an old temple that night.
Kael sat by the fire, fingers trailing flame that danced between light and shadow.
Seraphine watched him, heart heavy.
"I would never hurt you," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "But fate doesn't need hatred. Just… heartbreak."
Silence stretched between them.
Then she said, "Do you want me to leave?"
Kael turned toward her, fierce and wounded.
"I would rather burn with you," he said, "than live untouched by fate without you."
And in that moment, they understood:
The war wasn't just against gods and monsters.
It was against the prophecy.