Ariana stood alone in the moon-drenched courtyard, her hands stretched toward the heavens as the cold wind howled like a beast unchained. The palace behind her was silent—too silent.
Magic pulsed under her skin like a second heartbeat, fierce and wild.
She whispered the words the seeress had etched into her mind hours ago. Ancient. Forbidden.
"Vel'arim. Sulvain. Drethis."
The ground beneath her trembled.
Heat rose in a spiral around her, kissing the hem of her cloak until fire danced along the edge. Her skin glowed with a faint golden light, eyes burning brighter than the twin moons.
The Eldareth had sent a message—a symbol carved into the flesh of a Virelian guard: "Return what was taken or we burn your roots to ash."
But Ariana was done cowering.
She was the flame that wouldn't be extinguished.
From the shadows of the archway, General Cael Thornhart watched silently. Appointed by the Council of Nine to monitor Eldareth threats, he was a man forged of steel and storms, with silver runes tattooed up his neck and eyes that held a thousand battlefields.
"She channels the Forgotten Tongue," he said quietly to Damian, who stood beside him, arms crossed.
Damian's jaw tightened. "And?"
"Not even full-blooded Eldareth can control that magic without consequences."
"She isn't full-blooded," Damian replied. "She's something else."
Cael's eyes narrowed. "Exactly. That's what frightens me."
---
Later, in the war chamber, maps and scrolls covered the obsidian table. Ariana stood at its center, flanked by Cael and General Ivessa Dorne—a battle-hardened strategist with a raven-shaped scar across her throat and a reputation for razing rebel towns in the East.
"I unlocked a new crest last night," Ariana said, voice calm but taut. "It wasn't from my father's bloodline. It came from my mother's."
Damian's gaze snapped to her. "You never speak of her."
"I never could. Until now."
She touched the emblem glowing faintly beneath her collarbone—an old sigil of the Eldareth Highbloods.
"I think I'm part of the royal line. The cursed one that was hunted into extinction."
Cael swore under his breath.
General Ivessa's expression darkened. "That would make you heir to their throne."
"I don't want it," Ariana said quickly. "But it means they'll come for me."
"They already have," Damian growled.
Cael leaned over the table. "This changes everything. If the Eldareth believe you carry royal blood, they'll either bend the knee… or cut your heart out."
Ariana met his eyes. "Then we make them choose quickly."
That night, as thunder rumbled far in the north, Ariana stood at her balcony, staring into the night.
Damian joined her, silent.
"You heard them," she whispered. "They think I'm dangerous."
"You are."
She looked at him.
"But you're also ours," he added, voice low. "And I'll stand between you and the world—even if the gods themselves come knocking."
For a moment, she wanted to believe him. To lean into his strength and just be a girl again.
But she wasn't a girl.
She was flame, blood, and destiny bound in a woman's skin.
And war was coming.