Elira did not run—**a lady never runs**—but the marble floors burned beneath her slippered feet as she flew down the corridor. Behind her, the shouts of the Inquisitors echoed like thunder.
*They saw. They know.*
Lira gripped her arm, yanking her into a hidden servants' passage. The air here was close and dusty, a stark contrast to the perfumed halls Elira had known all her life. Her lungs ached, but she forced herself to keep moving, her silk gown tearing against the rough stone walls.
**"The stables,"** Lira panted. **"Dain's men will—"**
**"No."** Elira's voice was sharper than she intended. **"If the Inquisitors are here, Dain's guards are already theirs."**
A crash echoed from the main hall—the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. The Inquisitors weren't just searching. They were *destroying.*
Elira's fingers twitched. The heat in her veins pulsed, restless.
*Not now. Not yet.*
Lira pulled her through a narrow door, and suddenly they were outside, the cold night air biting at Elira's exposed skin. The gardens—once her sanctuary, filled with moonlit roses and whispering fountains—were now a maze of shadows. Somewhere beyond the high walls, the city slept, oblivious.
**"Where do we go?"** Lira whispered.
Elira opened her mouth—then froze.
A figure stood at the edge of the courtyard, silhouetted against the torches. Tall, clad in black armor that drank in the light. One of the Inquisitors.
But he wasn't advancing.
He was *waiting.*
**"Run,"** Elira breathed.
Lira didn't hesitate. She bolted toward the side gate, but Elira took a step back—toward the manor. Toward the fire she could feel building in her chest.
The Inquisitor tilted his head. **"Elira of the Ashen Blood,"** he called, his voice smooth as poisoned wine. **"The king offers you a choice. Kneel, and live in splendor. Or run, and burn with the rest."**
Her hands trembled. Not from fear.
From *anger.*
**"I've had enough of cages,"** she said.
Then she let the fire loose.
Flames erupted from her palms, not the controlled flickers she'd hidden for years, but a **roaring tide** of heat and light. The Inquisitor barely had time to raise his blade before the inferno swallowed him whole.
The blast shook the courtyard. Somewhere, a bell began to toll.
Lira screamed her name, but Elira didn't look back. She ran—not as a lady, but as something wild, something *free*—straight into the darkness beyond the gates.
---
### **Next Chapter Teaser:**
- **A Kingdom Awake** – The Obsidian King's nets tighten as Elira's face spreads on wanted posters