The city burned with anticipation.
Not fire, not yet—but tension thick enough to choke the sky. Citizens hid in cellars. Soldiers lined the walls. The palace itself pulsed with defensive wards. But Seraphine walked through it all in silence, golden fire curling at her heels, her hair rippling like a banner of light.
Liora followed her to the edge of the gate, breathless.
"Are you sure you can—?"
"No," Seraphine whispered, her eyes glowing, "but I must."
Then she stepped beyond the warded walls—alone.
Across the battlefield of scorched earth and snow, Aven stood with his army of frostborn. A crown of ice on his head. A blade curved like a scythe strapped to his back. When he saw her approach, he smiled.
"So. The little human girl dares to stand alone."
Seraphine raised her chin.
"I'm not little. And I'm not just human anymore."
Aven's eyes flickered.
"Ah, yes. The Hollow Flame. They said it would burn you alive. I see it's only made you brighter."
She lifted a hand, and the flame surged into her palm—a steady orb of molten gold.
"I didn't come to exchange compliments. Why are you really here?"
Aven chuckled. "To reclaim what belongs to my bloodline."
The ground trembled.
"You, Seraphine, are my niece."
Her breath caught.
"No... that's impossible."
"Oh, is it?" Aven's smile sharpened. "My brother, Lioran, once loved a human. She bore him a child with fire in her veins. A child hidden away from both demon and man. Until she was sold to a king's court like cattle."
Seraphine's knees nearly buckled.
Liora gasped from the ward line behind her.
"You're lying."
"I have no need to lie," Aven said coolly. "The Hollow Flame only awakens in true descendants of the first Flameborne line. And only one survived the purge of the Ember Dynasty."
He pointed to her chest.
"You. You are the last Ember Flame."
Kael rode like a storm.
The Mirror of Binding, now a living rune embedded in his chest, pulsed with every beat of his heart. Every moment he was away, the bond between him and Seraphine grew heavier, tighter.
He felt her panic. Her fury. Her grief.
He didn't stop to eat. Didn't sleep. The world around him blurred.
Until he saw the smoke on the horizon—frost and fire swirling together above the capital.
He was too late.
Or just in time.
"Join me, Seraphine," Aven said, voice coaxing. "Leave behind these fragile humans, these half-blooded kings. You are more than them. You are fire incarnate. Together, we could rebuild the north. Burn the false thrones. Create an empire of flame and frost."
She stared at him.
The words should've tempted her.
But Kael's face rose in her mind—his gentleness, his fire, his grief, his soul.
"I'd rather burn alone," she whispered.
Aven's face twisted. "So be it."
The first strike came not from Aven, but from Seraphine.
She hurled a lance of pure flame through the sky, shattering one of Aven's frostborn guards into a rain of crystal shards. His army surged forward.
But so did hers.
From the gates behind her, Tharion led the charge. Liora raised shields of light. And from the east—
Kael arrived.
Drenched in blood and magic, the cursed heir of both demon and werewolf, bound to a flame he'd tethered with his soul.
When he saw Seraphine fighting alone against an army, something in him snapped.
"Touch her," he roared, "and I will burn your gods."
He leapt into the fray, sword blazing, the Mirror of Binding glowing like a second heart.
The battlefield split for them.
Frost against flame.
Bloodline against bloodline.
Kael met Aven in a clash of steel and magic. The ground beneath them cracked. Winds howled. Fire screamed.
"You bound yourself to her?" Aven sneered. "Fool. That will be your undoing."
Kael's blade caught his side. "No. It's what made me stronger."
They clashed again.
And again.
Until Kael drove his sword through Aven's armor—but Aven, grinning through blood, whispered,
"You still don't know what you are, Prince Kael.
Not even your mother told you the truth."
Before Kael could ask what he meant, Aven vanished in a shattering blast of frost magic.
The battle ended with Aven's retreat—but the war had only just begun.
Seraphine stood beside Kael, her hands trembling, blood on her cheeks.
"I'm his niece," she whispered. "A demon princess."
Kael looked at her, touched her face. "You're my queen. Nothing changes that."
But in the silence between them, the bond in Kael's chest pulsed again—harder this time.
The Mirror was beginning to crack.
And neither of them knew how long he had before the price came due.