The morning of the Trials dawned with a silence too heavy for celebration. A hush hung over the palace grounds, broken only by the occasional crackle of fire wards lighting anew and the distant clang of ceremonial bells. The skies had clouded, their bronze-tinged hue thick with anticipation and ash. In Velstrae, such skies were seen as omens—not of ruin, but of reckoning.
Servants moved like ghosts through corridors, whispering behind cupped palms. The blood ritual had begun at dawn. Those chosen to participate were gathered before the Flame Monolith, the ancient obsidian shard that stood at the heart of the Trial Square. It was said to be carved from the dying breath of the first Flame Sovereign, its jagged surface pulsing faintly, as though alive.
Liora stood far behind the forming lines, her heart a slow war drum in her chest. She wore no sigil, no ceremonial cloak—just the roughspun servant's garb she'd stitched herself last year. Her hair had been pulled back hastily, and her boots were scuffed from nights of sparring. But there was resolve in her stance, shoulders squared like a soldier's. Kael stood at her side, far more composed in his red-gold trainee armor, flame etched into the pauldrons. His expression was unreadable, but his hand brushed hers once—a fleeting, wordless gesture that said don't back down.
Brisa had slipped through the crowd and now stood further off with the other support staff, her eyes darting between the ritual site and the guards. She wasn't supposed to be here. But then again, none of them were. The Queen's edict had been clear: no Null was to approach the Trial Square, let alone offer blood to the Monolith.
And yet, here Liora stood.
The Monolith loomed, its dark edges wrapped in crimson flame, hovering just above its blackened pedestal. Each participant knelt before it, offered their palm, and watched as the monolith reacted. Some flames sparked gold—the color of raw flame affinity. Others flickered orange, or worse, did not react at all. Those deemed unworthy were dismissed instantly.
Kael's turn came quickly. He stepped forward with fluid ease, unsheathing the blade he'd received on his second nameday at the Academy. He didn't flinch as he sliced his palm and pressed it to the obsidian.
The flame exploded upward, a geyser of bright orange, tinged with red.
"Kael of House Therin," the overseer intoned, "Second Year, Rank Four. Admitted."
Kael turned back toward her briefly before stepping into the holding circle with the other successful candidates.
Liora was not next. Nor the next dozen. She waited as noble after noble offered their blood. She watched as the flames danced—never once for a servant.
And then, her name was whispered.
Not aloud. Not by any overseer.
But by the Monolith itself.
A voice ancient and cracked. Echoing inside her skull: You are Ashborn. Marked by flame before flame knew your name. Child of the scorched bloodline. Heir to the cinders of old.
Her body moved without command. Her feet carried her forward, past shocked stares and gasps, until she stood before the black flame.
"No servant is permitted—" one of the guards began.
But the Monolith's flame flared.
A low, pulsing thrum echoed through the square.
She reached out. Her hand hovered. Her mind screamed to stop.
She pressed her palm to the stone.
There was no pain. No warmth.
There was everything.
Visions. Screams. Wings of fire blotting out the sky. A burning city. A crown shattered in the dust. A queen weeping. A child cradled in flame. A tomb split open by black flame.
And then—her own eyes. Staring back at her from the fire.
The Monolith exploded.
But not into fire.
Into silence.
No color. No light.
Just void.
Then, a flare—black and violet.
The overseers screamed.
The guards raised their weapons.
Liora collapsed.
She awoke in chains.
The chamber was deep beneath the palace—a place she'd only heard about in rumors. The Binding Cells, where traitors and cursed were kept before being sent to the Pyre.
Kael and Brisa sat across from her, both pale and silent, Liora's mind whirled how did they know they were all acquainted, Barisa, sure they were both servants. But they only saw Kael when he snuck from the Academy briefly. His dumbass probably followed suit when Liora was being taken in.
"You shouldn't have been there," Kael said softly.
"I didn't choose it."
"You touched the Monolith."
"I had to. It called me."
Brisa leaned closer. "They think you're the one from the prophecy."
Liora's throat dried. "What prophecy?"
"for a person who spends her time nose deep in scrolls, you should know fuck all" Brisa said her voice laced with panic and worry.
It's not that Liora didn't know, she knew, but saying it outloud would be acknowledging it, black flames were only ever mention once, in the scrolls, Kael habitually stole for her.....
Kael's voice dropped. "The Ashborn Prophecy. Hidden for generations. It speaks of a cursed flame—a child born of forgotten fire, unclaimed by any bloodline, who will either unmake or remake the flameborn legacy. Her fire is not of this world. They say her flame turns cities to salt. Her voice bends steel. Her presence dooms kings."
"That's not me."
"You lit the Monolith with black flame."
She shook her head. "I don't have flame. I'm a Null." There was no way there was just no fucking way
Brisa reached for her hand. "Not anymore."
Before anything more could be said, the heavy door creaked open.
Several high-ranking royal interrogators stepped in, clad in obsidian robes. Each of them bore flames that marked their elite status—embers of blue and crimson weaving like serpents across their armor. They said nothing for several heartbeats, letting the heat of their power speak for them.
"You will answer," one said at last, "for the heresy committed at the Trial."
Kael stepped forward, even in chains. "She didn't know. She's no threat!"
"She is not registered. She bypassed the blood rite. The Monolith responded to her regardless. That makes her an abomination."
Brisa's face twisted in horror. "You don't understand—she didn't choose this!"
The lead interrogator raised a gloved hand and snapped his fingers.
Pain bloomed through Kael's ribs as a pulse of flame struck him. He staggered, coughing.
Liora surged forward, snarling, "Stop it!"
Another interrogator advanced on Brisa, his flame dancing cruelly at her cheek. "Perhaps a little heat will encourage cooperation."
Something inside Liora trembled. Bent. Cracked.
The lead interrogator stepped before her. "Your flame is unnatural, forbidden and cursed, Tell us what you are, who sent you here? Are you here to lead a rebellion?"
"I don't understand, I don't even know what is happening!"
The flame mark in his hand flared, reaching toward her skin.
Liora screamed.
But it was not fear that answered.
It was fire.
Black.
Devouring.
The room erupted in darkness made flame. The interrogators screamed as their robes caught fire—not fire that burned hot, but fire that consumed. Eternal. Unforgiving. The sigils etched into the walls peeled and hissed. Stone melted.
Brisa shielded Liora's body as it trembled violently, her eyes glowing with that same cursed light. Kael, bleeding and shaken, pulled Brisa toward the collapsed tunnel grate.
"Take her. Through the lower tunnels. Use the third grate by the Forge Wall—follow the maintenance run."
Brisa hesitated. "Kael—"
"I'll hold them."
Liora tried to speak, to protest, but her strength failed her.
Kael gripped her hand, pressed his forehead to hers. "You have to live. You have to."
Brisa pulled Liora with all her strength, disappearing into the smoke-filled corridor as more guards surged toward the door.
Kael turned to meet them, sword igniting.
And then they were gone.
Above, in the Queen's sanctum, Riven entered, smoke clinging to his shoulders.
"She has awakened."
The Queen's eyes were rimmed in shadows.
"So Ashborn walks again."
"She destroyed three High Interrogators. None survived."
"Then the prophecy is no longer theory."
Riven bowed his head. "She must be found. Alive."
"For what purpose?"
"we need to find out more, there has been word that there has been a rebellion brewing, executing before the masses will sure smoother the only hope they have ever had, they have a hold of ancient scrolls." Riven explained
The Queen turned toward the window, worry wrinkling her features, she has ruled for thousands of years she "they" had sealed away ashborn themselves only for his power to land on the of a naive servant girl? She had to act fast, before she could understand her power that she is the reincarnation of the destroyer and creator of worlds. "Send the Shadow Riders. Every tracker. Every Hunter. She must not reach the eastern border."
"As you command."
The flames of Velstrae would never burn the same again.