He didn't sleep that night.
Not after she touched the altar.
Not after she touched him.
The castle was silent, but the silence felt different now—unsteady. Something had shifted, like a crack had formed beneath the palace stone, and it was slowly widening.
He sat alone in the tower that no one else dared enter.
And even here, in the highest and coldest place in the palace, he could still feel it—
Her.
The warmth of her arms still lingered on his skin.
The calm in her voice still echoed in his head.
She had touched him when he was at his worst—when the flame inside him had been seconds from losing control.
And she hadn't burned.
He didn't understand it.
Didn't want to.
Because if he accepted what it meant…
Then he'd have to admit he wasn't alone anymore.
He clenched his jaw. Flames crackled at his fingertips.
No one had ever held him like that. Not when the curse surged. Not when he screamed.
And not when the fire was close to devouring everything.
Yet she did.
Without hesitation.
Without fear.
Lira woke before dawn.
The strange pulse from the altar still hummed faintly beneath her skin. Like something had been passed into her, unseen. Unnamed.
She sat upright in bed. Her heart was calm, but her mind was racing.
Before she could rise, a knock hit her door — fast and urgent.
It was the same maid from the throne room.
The girl looked even paler than before.
"You're summoned," the maid said quietly.
Lira blinked. "By the prince?"
The maid hesitated. Her eyes flicked to the floor.
"No," she said. "By… the flame."
The throne room was empty when she entered.
No courtiers. No guards.
Only him.
He stood facing the great fire that hovered behind the throne — the Eternal Flame. The cursed symbol of the royal bloodline.
But right now, the flame wasn't just behind him.
It was moving with him.
It followed the curve of his back, swaying like it could hear his thoughts.
Lira stepped closer, careful. The doors shut behind her with a soft boom.
He didn't turn immediately.
But when he did — his eyes were glowing.
No longer golden.
Burning.
"You changed something," he said.
Lira stayed silent.
He took a slow step toward her. The flames flickered with him.
"That altar hasn't responded to anyone in a century. Even I couldn't awaken it fully."
He stopped in front of her.
"But the moment you touched it, it came alive."
His voice was rough. Controlled. But not calm.
"I was born into this fire," he continued. "It's bound to me. Buried in me. And for all my life, it has only ever devoured. Controlled. Isolated."
He stared at her.
"Until you."
Lira's breath hitched.
"I don't know what you did," he said. "Or what you are."
His gaze softened—only slightly.
"But when you touched me, the flame listened."
She swallowed. Her voice was quiet. "Maybe it wasn't just the flame."
He didn't move.
Only watched her. Like he didn't understand her. Like he wasn't sure if she was a miracle, or a mistake.
"Tell me what you want," he said finally.
Lira looked up at him.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I think… I'm supposed to find out."