The wind screamed in Airam's ears as she fell—down, down, past fractured memories and half-formed visions. A thousand voices whispered in her mind. Some called her name. Some begged for freedom. Others warned her to wake up before it was too late.
Then—impact.
But not with earth. Not with fire.
She landed on water.
The fall broke like glass around her, but the water didn't swallow her. Instead, it held her, like a mother catching her child. Warm. Glowing. Familiar.
Airam floated there, eyes closed, heart pounding, breath ragged. Golden tendrils of light curled around her limbs, soothing her. Whispering.
"You are the flame, but you are also the vessel," said a voice—not from around her, but within. "You must choose what burns, and what is saved."
Her eyes snapped open.
The water was gone.
She stood now in a grand circular chamber, walls carved from crystal and silver, humming with quiet energy. At the center of the room, a pedestal glowed softly, and on it rested a mirror unlike any she'd ever seen. Not of glass, but liquid light.
It shimmered. Then formed an image—her.
But not quite.
Her reflection was dressed in a regal cloak, eyes fierce, head crowned with fire, a nation behind her. This Airam looked powerful. In control.
Then the mirror flickered.
And showed another version.
This Airam stood alone in a quiet garden, laughter in her eyes, a book in her hands. No crown. No weight. Just peace.
Two futures.
Two choices.
Flame or freedom.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind her.
She turned—and her breath caught.
Liam.
Soaked, muddy, bleeding—but there. Somehow.
"Liam?!" she rushed toward him, voice trembling.
"I followed the flame," he said hoarsely. "It led me here." He took her hands, gripping them tight. "Are you okay?"
She wanted to cry. "I don't know."
He looked past her, eyes falling on the mirror.
"You saw it, didn't you? The choice."
She nodded.
"And?" he asked softly. "What does your heart say?"
"I…" she swallowed. "I don't know. I want peace. I want quiet. I want you. But my people need more than a dreamer."
Liam cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.
"Then be both. Be their flame—and yourself. You don't have to choose between strength and love. You're not alone anymore."
Her heart thudded. The words sank into her like rain in dry soil.
But before she could answer, the chamber shook.
The mirror shattered into a thousand shards, and a gust of shadow burst into the room, followed by a familiar, ominous presence.
The dark heir stood at the chamber's edge, blood staining his tunic, fury boiling in his eyes.
"They're coming," he growled. "The ones who banished me—the First Order. You woke the flame, and now they want to end both of us."
"Why me?" Airam asked, her voice sharp. "Why do they fear me?"
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "you're more powerful than even they were. The last vessel. And if you don't come with me now… they will destroy you to keep control."
"Come with you where?" Liam demanded, drawing his sword.
"To the edge of the beginning," the heir said grimly. "Where it all started. Where the gods fell. We have to reach it before they do. Or everything—your castle, your people, your reality—will burn."
Airam looked between them.
Liam. Her light.
The dark heir. Her past—and her power's mystery.
And the shadows closing in from the broken mirror behind her.
Suddenly, the ground cracked, and a blinding sigil carved itself into the crystal floor, spiraling outward beneath her feet.
A voice thundered from above, shaking the walls:
"The flame has defied fate. Eliminate the vessel."
Liam grabbed Airam's hand.
"Decide. Now."
The air split with a high-pitched wail.
Three paths. One step.
And Airam—
Jumped...