The wind was high on the palace rooftop, sweeping across the stone with a whisper that carried the scent of old ash and moon -chilled roses. Far below, the city flickered with sleeping lights, unaware of the two souls tangled in something ancient and unspoken.
They stood together before the statue of the first king - an obsidian colossus with a crown of jagged stone and a sword carved at his sides.
As Xandria leaned into his embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her face pressed against the chest plate of his royal tunic. His warmth wasn't just body heat - it was deeper, A heat that pulsed beneath his skin like a heartbeat made of embers.
They stayed in that position for some time, nobody talking. That was when Xandria decided to ask him the question that had plagued her mind for years.
"Can I ask you something?" She said softly.
He nodded. The moon light casting a shadow on his face. " Anything "
"What.. what are you?" She hesitated, not knowing how to ask the question.
His brows creased. "What do you mean?"
"Are you human?"
A flicker crossed his face - not fear, not surprise. Just a quiet resignation.
"Why do you ask?"
She hesitated. Then, eyes wide, and voice a whisper, she said, "I used to dream about you. Long before I even knew you existed. You were always surrounded by fire. Crowned in it. Holding it. Like it belonged to you."
He looked away for a moment, towards the horizon - where the mountains sat like sleeping giants. Then back at her.
And he raised his hands.
Flame erupted gently from his palm.
It didn't rage. It didn't roar. It curled like a living thing - soft and bright, warm instead of wild. It painted their faces in orange glow, reflecting in her brown eyes like tiny stars.
"I was born with it." He said at last. "The fire, it lives in me. It is me."
She stared at the flame, unmoving.
" It's not magic. Not like what scholars write in books. It is older. The grand Gias - the gift of the first king. Fire chose me. And only fire . I command it. It breathes in me.
He turned his hand, letting the flame spin like a miniature sun, before disappearing in the air.
"I've set battlefields ablaze with a word. Melted steel at a glance. When I'm angry it burns through me. When I grieve... It weeps with me."
Her lips parted, chest rising
" But when I saw you," he said, his voice softer now. " It didn't rage. It didn't lash. It quietened. Like it recognized you. Like it had been waiting."
She touched his chest, over his heart. " So the dreams...?"
He nodded. "The grand gias doesn't only give power. It gives pull. It binds the king to the one the fire sees. You didn't just dream of me my queen." His hands touched her cheek, warm and steady, "you were called."
The wind rose again, lifting the edges of her cloak.
And as they stood there, in the presence of a statue older than empires. The fire burned silently around them - bearing witness to the bond that had been written in flames long before either of them were born.
The rooftop air shimmered faintly with heat as his flame danced in the space between them - alive, breathing.
It casted a golden light on her face, turning her eyes into twin reflections of fire.
She didn't move at first. Just stared. Transfixed.
Then slowly, she reached out her hand.
He caught her wrist gently, "it's hot." He warned, his voice low.
But she shook her head, "I'm not afraid."
Their eyes locked.
He let her go.
Her fingers hovered just above the flames, trembling slightly. And then she touched it.
But it didn't burn.
The fire curled around her fingers like a silken ribbon, weaving through her hand, dancing over her skin as if greeting an old friend.
A quiet hum rose in the air. The braziers around the rooftop flared - not violently, but in a synchronized pulse, like the whole temple exhaled.
Maltherion's eyes widened.
"It's not suppose to do that," he whispered.
She looked at him, wonder blooming across her face. "What's happening?"
He stepped closer, his voice nearly a breath, "the fire... it knows you."
The flame around her fingers glowed brighter, shifting colors - gold to crimson to white, pure and silent. Sparks rose from her palm like stars breaking free.
"This isn't just the Gias " he said, staring at her hands, at her. " It's something more."
"I don't understand." She murmured.
He reached out, covering her hands with his.
The fire vanished - but the warmth remained.
"You were meant for me," he said, voice hoarse.
" But now I see.... You weren't just chosen."
Her heart pounded.
" You were forged"
She blinked, the weight of those words sinking in. "Forged... how?"
"I don't know." He admitted. " But the fire does. And it never lies."
Behind them, the fire of the first king loomed silently, as if watching in approval. The eternal flames that Maltherion had lit up around his feet still burned - but one had shifted, glowing faintly in the exact same shade the fire had turned in her palm.
Bound by fate, but something deeper had awakened. Not just a pull, not just a prophesy.
A spark.
And now... It had found kindling.
Xandria and Maltherion held each other.
None of them knew what the future hold for them, but for now they were going to let go, leaving everything in the hands of fate.
Xandria woke up the next morning in her bed, this was the first night she slept calmly and the dream that she had made her smile. She dreamt of a happy ending. A ending that was fulfilling.
She remembered what had transpired the day before on the roof. She does not know what had changed, but her heart feels lighter, and thinking about Maltherion brings smiles to her face.
She stood at her window, watching the guards in the courtyard train together. Seeing them fight, rekindled the spark that was in her. She was once part of the female soldiers in training while she was sixteen, her and Elara. And she was the best trainee. But Elara got sick and she had to stop the training because Elara couldn't come anymore. Seeing swords clash together, sparked something in her.
She quickly rushed into the bathroom and took her shower.
She wore long pants with a flowing skirt attached to it. That was all she had for now that was appropriate for training.
She made her hair into a ponytail and rushed downstairs, stopping a few times when some maids greeted her.
She halted in her footsteps when she saw Maltherion and some of the ministers stepping out of the royal court.