The capital burned.
Smoke curled into the heavens like fingers dragging heaven down. The resistance had arrived in the dead of night — cloaked in Veyl red and betrayal — tearing through the outer gates like they were paper.
Ariana stood at the high tower window, her fingers trembling as she watched the chaos unfold.
Kairo stood behind her, armor half-strapped, a sword in each hand.
"You should stay here," he said.
She turned slowly, her gown whipping around her legs like smoke. Her hair was wild, her lips blood-red, her eyes unreadable.
"I started this," she said. "I'm ending it."
"You're not ready."
"No," she whispered. "But I'm all they have."
Down in the lower courtyard, Damian barked orders at his soldiers, eyes never leaving the burning skyline.
She was still up there.
He could feel her.
Every heartbeat.
Every hesitation.
Every scream she was swallowing.
"Protect the palace!" he yelled.
But he wasn't protecting the kingdom.
He was protecting her.
Ariana descended the stairs like a shadow cloaked in vengeance.
The ground shook with cannon fire. The air smelled of ash and iron. Blood ran in the streets.
Selene had vanished from her cell.
And the gates were down.
Her throne — her stolen peace — crumbled beneath her feet.
"Kairo," she said, her voice cracking as they reached the war court. "If I die—"
"You won't."
"—burn this place."
---
The palace doors burst open.
And leading the charge was a masked warrior — tall, cloaked in red, his sword dripping with fire.
He tore through the soldiers like wind through leaves.
Until he saw her.
And stopped.
Her.
Her eyes.
Her soul.
The heir they were supposed to kill.
Ariana stepped forward, the silver dagger gleaming in her palm.
"Take me to your commander."
He removed his mask.
And her blood froze.
It was her cousin — thought dead since the Veyl betrayal.
"Ariana," he whispered. "You're alive."
"I was," she said quietly. "Until you came to finish the job."
Behind her, Damian appeared — bloodied, furious, breathless.
And Kairo, too — sword raised, gaze locked on the stranger.
Three men.
All tied to her past.
And none of them prepared for what she said next.
"Let them in."
Damian's head snapped. "What?"
Kairo growled, "You can't be serious—"
"I am. No more hiding. No more running. I want every rebel in this room. I want them to see me bleed or see me rule."
"Ariana," Damian said, stepping closer, "this will destroy you."
She looked him in the eyes — and gods, even now, he was still beautiful in the blood and ash, like a fallen angel mourning his own sins.
"I was already destroyed," she said. "This is just the fire I rise from."
---
The rebel commander stepped into the throne room. Behind him, twenty soldiers in red armor, ready to kill.
But when they saw her — standing barefoot, blood-stained, shoulders back and blade raised — they hesitated.
And Ariana stepped forward.
"I am the last of Veyl," she said. "But I am also the flame that burned it to the ground. You want my crown?"
She sliced her palm open and let the blood fall on the stone floor.
"Then take it from me."
No one moved.
No one dared.
Until the commander bent to one knee.
Then two more followed.
Then the entire resistance.
And just like that…
The girl who had been hunted
The woman who had been betrayed
The lover who had been broken
Was now the queen they bled for.