By dawn, the imperial court was ablaze with rumors. Nobles who had witnessed Elira stop an assassin midair with a single glowing gesture were either silenced by fear or incited by ambition. Whispers danced down the marble halls of the palace like wildfire. Some claimed Elira had bound a demon to her soul. Others said she was chosen by an ancient god.
In the heart of the capital, power did not rest in truth—it rested in perception.
And Elira knew it.
She stood before the towering doors of the Inner Court, where only blood kin and the most trusted advisors of the royal family were allowed. Guards flanked her on both sides, their expressions unreadable. They did not stop her. The Queen Dowager had summoned her at first light.
Kael trailed behind, silent and alert. He had barely spoken since the night before. He didn't need to. The tension was thick enough to cut with steel.
As the doors groaned open, Elira lifted her chin.
---
The Inner Court was a sanctum of shadows and gold. High arched ceilings were carved with constellations, their stars inlaid with sapphire and pearl. The floor was obsidian, polished to reflect the glimmer of chandeliers. At the end of the long chamber, seated upon a dais beneath a canopy of black silk, sat the Queen Dowager.
Once the empire's reigning empress, she now held its hidden reins. Her silver hair was wrapped into a flawless coil, and her robes were midnight blue embroidered with ancient sigils.
She did not rise.
"Elira of House Valen," the Queen Dowager said, her voice calm as still water, "you've become quite the spectacle."
Elira curtsied with perfect grace. "Spectacle, Your Grace, or threat?"
A flicker of a smile touched the Dowager's lips. "That depends on how well you lie."
Kael remained at the entrance, as custom dictated. Elira approached the throne alone.
"You displayed ancient magic in front of half the high court," the Dowager said. "Magic believed lost—magic forbidden since the War of the Hollow Flame."
"I did what was necessary," Elira replied, her voice even. "Had I not stopped the assassin, I would be dead."
"And now the court fears you more than they ever pitied you," the Dowager said. "A useful trade."
Elira narrowed her eyes. "You don't seem surprised."
The Queen Dowager tilted her head. "Why should I be? I had the bloodline traced when you were still in swaddling cloth. House Valen may be disgraced, but your grandmother once rode with the First Flame."
Elira's breath caught.
"You knew," she whispered. "You knew what I was."
"I suspected," the Dowager replied, leaning back in her throne. "But I chose not to awaken it. Your father's cowardice diluted the line. I thought the power dead."
"Then why summon me here?" Elira asked. "To punish me for what I never asked to inherit?"
The Queen Dowager's eyes glinted. "To guide you."
Silence fell between them.
"You wield something older than the crown," the Dowager continued. "The court will turn against you. The priests will call you heretic. But I…" She rose from her throne, descending the steps slowly. "I see opportunity. If you are wise, you will serve the Empire with that power. If not…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I will burn you myself."
---
When Elira left the Inner Court, her hands were shaking.
Kael fell into step beside her. "What did she say?"
"She offered me protection," Elira murmured. "And made it sound like a threat."
"Sounds like her," Kael said dryly.
As they walked the halls, courtiers watched them like hawks. Some nodded stiffly. Others looked away. But one thing was clear—Elira had become more than a fallen noblewoman.
She was a force.
And forces were either obeyed… or destroyed.
---
That evening, she returned to her family's ancestral library. Though most of the books had been auctioned or stolen during her father's fall, a hidden section remained behind the hearthstone—untouched, cloaked in wards.
She had not dared open it in her past life.
But now, she knew better.
She pried the loose stone free and reached into the hollow space. Her fingers brushed parchment.
She pulled out a leather-bound journal.
Its cover was cracked with age. The seal etched into it bore the shape of a phoenix in flame—a symbol long banned by the Empire's Church.
She opened the first page.
"To my bloodborn heir, should you awaken—know this: our line was not born of men, but of the Flame that walked before time. What sleeps within you is not sorcery, but a covenant older than kings."
Elira's fingers tightened around the page.
Kael's voice broke the silence. "You found something."
She nodded, eyes still scanning the pages. "My grandmother left records. She was more than a warrior. She was a Flamebound—a bloodline mage tied to the origin of the old Empire."
"You think this is where your power comes from?"
Elira closed the journal. "I think it's only the beginning."
---
That night, dreams came.
Not memories—these were different.
She stood in a field of ash, where blackened trees reached toward a starless sky. Fire flickered in the distance, and from the flames emerged a woman tall, faceless, with hair like burning embers.
"Blood remembers," the woman said.
"But you have forgotten."
Elira tried to speak but no sound came.
The woman reached forward, placing a hand over Elira's heart.
"The covenant has been broken. The throne stands on cursed stone. Reclaim what was lost… or watch it all burn again."
When Elira woke, her hands were glowing with heat and the journal at her bedside had burst into flames.
---
At dawn, Kael found her seated by the hearth, the journal's ashes scattered across the floor.
"You burned it?"
"I didn't mean to," she said. "It reacted to the dream. Or the other way around."
He crossed his arms. "You need answers."
"Yes," she said quietly. "And I know where to find them."
He raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"The Temple of the Hollow Flame," Elira said. "It was sealed after the old wars, but its ruins still exist in the north."
Kael frowned. "That region is cursed."
"So am I."
He studied her. "You're serious."
"I have to know what I am. I can't fight shadows if I don't know the shape of the blade."
"Then I'm going with you."
Elira looked up. "You don't have to—"
"I swore I'd protect you," Kael said. "Even from yourself."
---
By noon, Elira had begun to make preparations. She sent word to a secret contact Lady Calis, a half-banished scholar of forbidden magic. She requested maps, scrolls, and any surviving records of the Temple.
Within hours, she received an encrypted reply:
"You stir ashes better left undisturbed. But if you must walk fire, be prepared to bleed. The path is watched."
That night, a raven flew into her chambers a sign from the Dowager.
A single black feather wrapped in a silver ribbon.
A warning.
Or perhaps, permission.
Elira held it in her palm, then looked toward the distant mountains.
The game had changed.
She was no longer merely reclaiming a title.
She was chasing the truth of what she was.
And the Empire would either bow… or burn