The arrow struck.
But not her heart.
Aira's eyes flew open as time bent like molten glass—
A blur of crimson light intercepted the arrow mid-air.
Lucien.
He had thrown himself into its path, shielding her with his body.
A gasp tore from her lips as his body arched with impact, blood blooming across his side like a cursed flower.
"No!" Her scream cracked the veil between worlds.
They tumbled through space and storm, crashing into the marble steps of the Forbidden Gate.
Lucien collapsed beside her, coughing blood, his breath shallow—but his hand found hers.
"Still caught you," he whispered, smiling through the pain.
Aira's tears weren't gentle—they were molten.
"You fool. Why?"
Lucien's voice was hoarse. "Because I'd rather die than live in a world without you."
**
Above them, the storm thickened—and from the darkness stepped a shadow-cloaked figure, bow still raised.
Kael.
No. Not Kael.
A twisted mirror of him.
The corrupted twin from the ruined realm—the Dark Reflection.
"I told you," he said, voice like broken glass. "Two flames cannot rule one throne. Only one will survive. And it won't be you."
He raised another arrow.
Aira rose, her hair blazing like a comet. "You dare betray your blood?"
"I am what he feared to become," the reflection spat. "And you—are a mistake that should've stayed buried."
She didn't flinch.
"I was forged in fire. I was born of wrath. And I—am done running."
The sky responded.
Thunder cracked.
The air rippled with prophecy.
She stepped in front of Lucien, arms wide, golden power rising from her palms.
The arrow flew.
But it never reached her.
Kael—the real Kael—slammed into his twin, tackling him into the obsidian altar.
Steel clanged.
Blood sprayed.
The brothers clashed—one forged by loyalty, the other by envy.
Lucien tried to rise, choking on pain. "Aira—don't lose yourself."
She looked back at him, her fire eyes glowing soft.
"Too late," she whispered. "I've already found who I truly am."
She turned toward the Gate.
"Then open it," Kael screamed mid-battle. "Finish this!"
Aira stepped forward.
And the Forbidden Gate trembled.
Glyphs ignited. Walls of time unraveled.
And before her stood the one thing no prophecy had prepared her for—
Her mother. Alive. And waiting. Cloaked in dark fire.
"Hello, my child," she purred, voice dipped in betrayal.
Aira stumbled back.
Lucien's eyes widened.
Kael froze mid-swing.
The Queen of Embers had returned.
Alive.
And she had come to reclaim her throne.
Aira's lips parted, but no sound came out.
There—beyond the flames, beyond the veil of what was real and what was myth—stood the woman she had only seen in fractured memories.
Queen Seraphine.
Her mother.
Alive.
Clad in shadows and dripping with power so ancient, the ground beneath her feet cracked.
Her hair flowed like ink. Her crown? Twisted flame.
Her eyes? A storm of sorrow and steel.
"You should have stayed buried," Aira whispered, voice trembling.
But Seraphine smiled—a cruel, knowing curve of her lips.
"My sweet daughter… you were never supposed to survive."
Kael staggered back, blood running down his temple, his sword trembling in his hand.
Lucien tried to push himself up, wincing as his blood soaked the broken marble.
"Seraphine…" he muttered. "You... died in the fire."
"I became the fire," she said.
And then she walked—no, glided—across the shattered altar, her eyes never leaving Aira.
"I was cast into the Void. Betrayed. Forgotten. But do you know what the Void gives in return for pain?"
Aira's magic surged.
Seraphine raised her palm.
The world screamed.
Winds howled. The sky split.
And from the rift spilled creatures made of shadow and bone—Wraithborns—the guardians of the cursed realm, bound to Seraphine's fury.
Kael shouted, "She's breaking the veil—"
But it was too late.
Aira's power flared. Lucien rose despite the blood, sword glowing with ancient runes.
Kael spun toward the Queen, fire trembling in his fists.
But Seraphine only laughed.
"You think you can stop me? I am the end of empires."
She pointed a single blackened finger at Aira.
"You are not the heir. You are the seal. And I have come… to break you."
Aira screamed as power collided—hers and her mother's.
Fire and shadow clashed in a cosmic storm.
And then—everything went white.
Time shattered.
Kael and Lucien were thrown into the wind, their screams swallowed by the storm.
And Aira—
Aira was pulled into the rift.
Her body vanished.
Her scream?
Still echoing across the ruins.
And in the ashes of her disappearance, the ground burned a single message:
"The flame has been taken
Silence.
Ashes floated like dead snowflakes as the altar smoldered in ruin. The sky had dimmed to a bruised purple, the storm clouds whispering with the voices of the fallen.
Lucien coughed, crawling toward the scorch mark where Aira had vanished. His fingers trembled as he touched the blackened stone—still warm, as if she had just been there, still burning.
"She's gone…" he whispered. "Gone."
"No," Kael rasped behind him, blood staining his torn tunic. His eyes blazed with disbelief and desperation. "She's not gone. She was taken."
Lucien clenched his jaw. "That witch—Seraphine—she ripped her out of reality."
Kael turned, voice edged with fury. "You don't get it, Lucien. Aira didn't just vanish. She was sealed away. Like a key being swallowed by the lock it was meant to open."
Lucien's heart thundered.
"She screamed your name," Kael continued. "And you froze. Just like before."
Lucien's fist clenched. Guilt hit him like a blade. But before he could defend himself, the air shifted.
A strange hum vibrated through the stone. A symbol—the sigil of fire and crown—glowed beneath the ashes.
And then—
A voice echoed through the silence.
It wasn't Aira's.
It wasn't Seraphine's.
It was him.
A voice Lucien hadn't heard since the First War.
"Ah… So the seal has cracked again."
Lucien turned pale.
Kael stumbled backward. "No… no, it can't be…"
The ground split.
Black lightning licked the sky.
From the fissure, a shadow stepped out, tall and cloaked in violet flame.
"Tell me, Kael," the voice drawled. "Did you really think the Flame Keeper's fall wouldn't awaken me?"
Lucien's voice was dry. "General Nyros…"
Kael's knees buckled.
The lost general of the Shadow Pyres. The one who had nearly burned the kingdoms to dust a century ago. The one Aira was born to stop.
Nyros smiled, fangs glinting.
"Let's finish what the prophecy started, shall we?"
The winds screamed.
And behind Nyros, the portal blazed open again.
Inside, for the briefest second—they saw her.
Aira.
Trapped in a cage of fire and glass, her eyes dull, her soul screaming through silence.
Lucien surged forward.
But the portal closed.
Too slow.
Too late.
Nyros turned to the sky and whispered:
"Let the second war of flame begin."
Nyros stepped out from the flaming rift like a nightmare reborn, his violet flames licking the air with malevolent hunger. The ground beneath his feet sizzled, blackening with each step. Around him, the very atmosphere warped, as if reality itself feared his return.
Lucien stood, fists clenched, eyes locked on the ghost from a war-torn past.
"You should be dead," he growled.
Nyros tilted his head, amusement curving his mouth. "Death is for the forgotten, Lucien. But I… I was etched into prophecy."
Kael dragged himself up, panting, blood on his lips. "You were sealed—buried in the Eternal Rift. The Guardians—"
"The Guardians?" Nyros scoffed. "They wept like children when I ripped their souls apart. Aira… was the only one who stood between me and the Crown of Flame. But now?"
His eyes flashed with infernal light.
"She's mine."
Lucien lunged with a roar, summoning his blade, firelight dancing across its edge. But Nyros barely lifted a hand—and the blade shattered mid-air, turning to dust.
The force knocked Lucien back, slamming him against a ruined column.
Pain bloomed in his chest.
But worse… was the terror blooming in his heart.
Kael stepped forward, calling on his shadow runes, hands trembling. "I'll end you, even if it costs me—"
But Nyros was faster.
In a blink, he was behind Kael. A whisper. A curse.
Kael's scream tore through the night as his runes burned from the inside out, a torment that no mortal had ever endured.
"Your loyalty is touching," Nyros said, "but misplaced."
He turned to the altar again.
The ancient sigil glowed once more—and from its heart, a crystal shard rose. Floating. Pulsing.
"The Heartfire," Lucien gasped. "No. That was destroyed!"
Nyros smiled like a god who had just stolen heaven.
"This is a fragment. Just enough to break the veil between realms. Just enough to pull Aira's true power into my hands."
He gripped it.
Lightning struck the ground.
The world screamed.
And just like that—
The sky ripped open.
And from the bleeding clouds, three flaming serpents descended, roaring as they coiled around Nyros like celestial guardians twisted to serve him.
Lucien staggered up. "No… this can't be…"
Nyros turned, eyes glowing like solar eclipses.
"This is the beginning. Flame against flame. Crown against crown. Love… against destiny."
He vanished into the sky, the serpents following with deafening shrieks—leaving behind nothing but smoke, fire, and silence.
And then—
A voice.
Soft.
Distant.
"Aira…"
Lucien turned.
Kael lay bleeding, barely breathing.
He gripped Lucien's wrist with dying strength.
"You must find the Mirror of Echoes. It's the only way to reach her…"
Lucien's eyes widened.
"Where is it?"
But Kael was already fading, eyes closing, blood pooling around his runes.
A storm rolled in.
And far above… hidden in the heavens…
Aira opened her eyes.
But they weren't gold anymore.
They were midnight red.
Lucien stood frozen. Kael's blood seeped into the altar floor like a sacrifice unwillingly made. The name Mirror of Echoes echoed in his mind like thunder crashing in an endless valley.
He didn't even notice the tears burning down his face until the wind howled—and a deep rumble rolled through the earth.
Aira's voice echoed inside him.
But it wasn't soft.
It wasn't kind.
It was feral.
"He touched the shard."
Lucien stumbled back. "Aira?!"
"He woke what should never be woken… I feel it. The fire is no longer mine."
"No, no—don't say that," Lucien begged. "We can fix this. We will fix this!"
But the connection wavered—like a dying spark in a sea of shadows.
Suddenly, the ground split.
From beneath Kael's limp body, a symbol etched itself in glowing crimson runes—serpent-like, ancient, and pulsating with forbidden magic.
Lucien turned to flee, but the sky split again.
And from the rift—
She fell.
Aira.
But not as he remembered.
She landed on her knees, hair wild like storm winds, dressed in flowing obsidian robes laced with scarlet fire. Her aura—chaotic, divine, dangerous—bent the light around her.
Lucien stepped forward, whispering, "Aira…?"
Her eyes lifted slowly.
They weren't red anymore.
They were flame-black.
She stared at him like he was a stranger.
And then, softly, coldly—
"Who are you to speak my name?"
Lucien's heart stopped.
"Aira, it's me… It's Lucien! Don't you remember?"
Her head tilted. The wind shifted. Her lips parted slightly.
"Lucien..."
A flicker.
One second—one breath—she softened.
But then—
Nyros' voice thundered from the clouds.
"Bind him, Empress of Ash. His heart is your key."
Aira's eyes glazed.
In a blur of fire, chains of molten light wrapped around Lucien, lifting him off the ground.
He struggled, calling her name, screaming—but she only stepped closer, hand raised.
Her fingers glowed with the power of the Heartfire.
Lucien gasped, "Fight it, Aira! Please… remember us!"
But she only whispered:
"There is no us. There is only the flame."
And with a flash—
Everything went black.