The silence of the throne room could smother breath.
A storm brewed outside, but within these walls, the true tempest waited—in stillness, in stares, in secrets choking the air like smoke. The scent of blood had barely faded from the polished marble floors. The steward's body was gone, but the stain lingered. It always lingered.
I stood beside the king.
We had not spoken since the public reveal. Since I threw the Ember Ring's name to the winds like a war-drum calling fire. The court had fractured overnight. Some swore loyalty to the crown. Others retreated into silence. A few had simply vanished.
The king had said nothing.
He only looked at me with those tired, hard eyes. Like he was seeing a shadow he didn't summon but couldn't banish.
"You forced my hand," he said now, low, cold.
"No," I replied, my voice even, "I showed you yours."
His fist clenched, and I knew he hated me—but he needed me more.
Because the people whispered now. About the White Flame. About the girl who stood where even men feared to tread. About the princess who bled for the realm while the crown sat idle.
He had no choice but to keep me alive.
But that didn't mean I was safe.
---
Nira met me at the barracks.
The White Shadows had grown thinner since the Ember Ring's assault. Fewer eyes. Fewer blades. But what remained was sharper than steel. They moved through the halls like echoes.
"The council's fractured," Nira reported. "But they're regrouping."
"Let them. Let them crawl back into the dark. I'll burn it out."
She hesitated.
"Delbeyrah," she said, and her voice lowered, softer now, "there's a message. It came this morning."
I tensed. "From whom?"
She handed me a sealed letter—plain, scentless, sealed with black wax.
The moment my fingers touched it, I knew. I didn't need to break the seal to understand what kind of venom waited inside.
Still, I did.
You don't know what you've started,
You don't know who we are,
But you will.
My hands didn't tremble. But something deep within me shifted. A thread pulled tighter.
---
That night, I stood on the outer ramparts of the castle, the wind cutting sharp through my cloak. The city below pulsed with life, unaware of the knife poised at its throat.
I wasn't afraid of death. I feared obscurity. I feared that if I fell now, all of this—the blood, the betrayal, the sacrifices—would be for nothing.
I closed my eyes.
The weight of my name pressed down on me like a mountain.
But I wasn't that girl anymore.
I was the White Flame.
And they would learn to burn.
---
At dawn, a scream pierced the air.
I found the body slumped against the garden's stone fountain—one of the newer guards, barely out of boyhood. A knife embedded in his throat. Pinned to his chest, a note:
One for one.
The Ember Ring wasn't hiding anymore.
They were daring me.
Nira swore beside me, spitting into the grass.
"They want a war."
"Then we give them one," I whispered.
---
But first, we needed to know who remained.
The Ember Ring had dissolved into shadows again, using new faces, deeper roots. The loyal court mage—a woman named Irenne—came to me with a list. Each name was a question mark, a suspicion, a loose thread waiting to unravel everything.
We began quietly.
I infiltrated meetings disguised as palace servants. Listened. Watched. Took notes.
The White Shadows planted false scrolls. False messages. We flushed out spies by the hour. One by one, the liars exposed themselves.
I interrogated them myself.
There was no room for softness now.
One cried. One begged. One tried to kill me.
None walked free.
---
Two weeks passed like ash through fingers.
Every night, I met with Irenne, Nira, and the last of my inner circle. We mapped the castle, tracked alliances. The Ember Ring was everywhere—in the kitchens, in the library, in the temple.
And always, always watching.
Then came the letter.
Not from them. Not from within.
From the border.
My lady Delbeyrah, it began.
The outpost of Eleth's spine has fallen. The soldiers left behind were massacred. They bore your name into battle. We found your digit carved into their shields.
The message is clear. They come for you.
Signed,
Commander Vysel.
I stood alone after reading it, knuckles white against the edge of the table.
This wasn't just war anymore.
This was execution.
---
I told no one.
Instead, I went to the royal crypts.
There, beneath stone and silence, I knelt before the sealed tombs. My mother's was among them now—a monument to what I could not protect.
I pressed my forehead to the marble.
"Forgive me," I whispered.
For living. For failing. For not burning the world sooner.
I left no tears.
Only resolve.
---
The Ember Ring thought me fractured.
But ash is where flames begin.
Tomorrow, I would ride to Eleth's Spine.
Not to reclaim.
To avenge.
To burn the map they thought they controlled.
Let them come.
Let them see.
Let them kneel.