Ashen lies in the ruins of the summoning circle.
Breathing. Changed.
Not possessed. Not cursed.
Reforged.
The silver curse Seren implanted in him is gone, torn free by my hands and in its place… something stirs.
Something in me.
I step back, my vision fracturing like stained glass. My heartbeat doesn't race. It slows.
Because I'm remembering.
Centuries ago before my first birth, before the world had kings there were the Six Thrones.
Gods? Demons? No.
Cataclysms.
They were not worshiped.
They were feared, bound in celestial iron and scattered across realms.
And one of them the Pale Flame disappeared.
Now I remember why.
Because she did not die.
She reincarnated.
Into me.
I look into the mirror of the lake that night and see it.
My eyes, once starlit blue, flicker gold.
Not the soft gold of warmth.
The cold gold of fire that does not burn it devours.
"What are you?" Mire whispers.
I turn to him, slowly, deliberately.
"I thought I was Seraphina Vale.
But she was just the shell.
I am what came before.
What the gods buried.
What the world forgot."
I smile and galaxies fracture in the air around me.
"I am the Pale Flame.
And I have awakened."
And deep in the Empire's capital…
Seren wakes in a cold sweat, her bones singing with fear.
"No," she gasps. "It's too soon. She shouldn't remember"
The mirror before her cracks.
The flames inside it bloom with gold.
And from the depths, my voice answers
"I'm not coming for the throne, sister.
I'm coming for the sky."