The carriage rolled through countryside as afternoon bled into evening, wheels finding every rut in the road. Thalion sat across from Seraphina in uncomfortable silence. His four guards rode at a distance that satisfied propriety while trapping them together. Close enough for protection, far enough they could not hear conversation.
Seraphina held her document case in her lap, fingers pressed against worn leather. The evidence she had compiled over months felt heavier than it should. Assassination conspiracy documentation. Financial records proving her father's death was orchestrated. The official mistress contract between Alaric and Evelyne, signed three years before Seraphina's own wedding.
And the truth about her bloodline.
She had planned to be direct with the Crown Prince. Professional. Honest. That plan lasted exactly three minutes.
"Your petition mentions attempted murder of the Flamebearer," Thalion said. His voice carried the detached quality of formal interrogation. "Explain that reference."
Seraphina took breath to answer. To say the simple truth: I am the Flamebearer. The conspiracy targets me specifically.
Direct. Clean. Let the evidence speak.
But Thalion continued before she could form words.
"If your petition involves the Flamebearer bloodline, you should understand that creates complications." His tone shifted. Colder. More guarded. "That heritage carries significant historical concerns."
Seraphina paused.
That voice. That careful distance when he spoke about Flamebearers.
He had opinions about them. Strong ones. And none of them favorable.
If she revealed now, he would filter every piece of evidence through whatever he had been taught. He would assess her as the Flamebearer first. The petitioner second.
Change tactics.
She met his gaze steadily. "The Flamebearer is central to understanding the conspiracy. The bloodline connects to everything."
"Connected how?"
"I know the Flamebearer very well." She kept her voice neutral. Professional. "Perhaps you could explain imperial concerns about that heritage? So I understand the political landscape I am entering."
Thalion studied her for a long moment. Calculating something. Assessing.
He thought she was asking for guidance. Political awareness from someone connected to a dangerous bloodline.
He did not realize she was interviewing him.
"Imperial archives document the Flamebearer line extensively," he said finally. "Historical patterns of political manipulation. Dangerous magical practices. Systematic undermining of imperial authority that required intervention."
Historical patterns. He was citing ancient wrongdoing. The justification for what came after.
Mother's research had covered four generations of forced marriages. Financial connections threading through decades. Officials in key positions orchestrating the suppression. She wrote about court advisors, temple officials, imperial archivists.
Imperial archivists.
What if they documented supposed crimes to justify extinction? Then erased evidence that anyone survived?
"What patterns specifically?" she asked.
"Ancient Flamebearers formed dangerous political alliances. Used personal relationships to build power networks. Demonstrated consistent resistance to proper oversight before the line ended."
He was calling survival "dangerous alliances." Calling intelligence "manipulation." But he spoke of ancient Celestines. The ones before the extinction.
This is not objective history. This is the justification written by whoever orchestrated the killing.
"Interesting," Seraphina said carefully. "And these records? Who maintains the imperial archives?"
"Imperial archivists. Trusted advisors across multiple generations." His answer came readily. Confident. "The historical documentation is comprehensive and consistent."
Multiple generations of archivists. The implications hit like a physical blow.
Mother wrote about officials holding positions for generations. How they could alter genealogical records, erase bloodlines, make entire family histories disappear. She could not identify who. Just that they had influence at the highest levels.
What if it is the archivists themselves?
They could document crimes, then document extinction, then erase evidence of survival. Control the historical narrative completely. Write genocide as justified policy.
But something worse occurred to her.
The Crown Prince knew this documentation intimately. He was citing it from memory. Which meant this was not just archived somewhere collecting dust. This was taught. To the imperial heir.
By whom?
Who taught the Crown Prince to fear Flamebearers? Royal tutors. Imperial advisors.
His mother. Eleanor.
The thought sent cold clarity through her chest. If the Empress believed what her son believed, if she thought Flamebearers were threats requiring management, then Seraphina was not requesting protection. She was walking into the hands of people who thought her bloodline should be controlled. Diluted. Erased.
"Consistent documentation across generations," Seraphina said slowly. "That is thorough."
She let it hang. Did not explain what she meant.
Thalion continued as if educating a naive petitioner. "The ancient bloodline showed documented patterns of emotional manipulation. They formed dependencies in those around them. Used powerful allies as shields against proper oversight."
Something in his tone when he said "powerful allies" carried an edge that had nothing to do with archives.
Something personal there. Not just historical record.
But he still spoke of ancient Celestines. Dead over a century. He had no idea one sat across from him.
Seraphina caught it. "Or perhaps ancient Flamebearers needed alliances to survive persecution?"
"The archives document this extensively." His response came quick. Defensive. "Historical wrongdoing, not persecution narrative."
He is defensive. Not questioning. The indoctrination runs deep.
But every word is about Celestines from over a century ago. Before the "extinction."
He has no idea survivors exist.
"The archives call it persecution narrative?" Seraphina kept her voice mild. Curious. "Interesting phrasing."
"Flamebearer women historically claimed victimhood while engaging in political maneuvering that destabilized regions." Thalion's jaw was tight. "The historical pattern justified intervention."
They documented our destruction across generations. Then blamed ancient Celestines for justifying it.
Mother wrote: "Who controls narratives about dangerous magic?"
Now I know. Whoever controls the archives controls both the accusations and the execution.
The carriage hit a rough patch of road.
Seraphina's hand shot out to brace herself. Her palm landed on the bench beside his thigh. Inches from touching him.
Magic surged between them. Not subtle, not gentle. Like lightning seeking ground. Like something fundamental recognizing its mirror.
Both jerked back violently.
Seraphina pressed against her side of the carriage, pulse hammering in her throat. Thalion had gone rigid against his seat, hands clenched white on his knees.
Long, charged silence filled the space between them.
"What was that?" His voice came rough.
"I do not know." Truth. She had no idea what that was. Magic did not react like that. Not to proximity. Not to anything she had ever experienced.
"I do not know either." Thalion's voice came tight. He was working to keep it steady. Professional. "That was not... typical magical interaction."
Seraphina watched his jaw work. Watched him grip his knees tighter, fighting to ground himself against whatever he was feeling.
He was as confused as she was. Neither of them understood this.
Good. At least I am not the only one off-balance.
"If you say so, Your Highness."
She did not know if that was what it was either. But she was not going to discuss magical theory when she needed information about everything else. Whatever that pull was, it unsettled both of them. File it away. Focus on the interrogation.
Seraphina watched his jaw work. Watched him grip his knees tighter, fighting to ground himself against whatever he was feeling.
He thought she was dangerous. That much was clear. But he was just as confused as she was about what just happened. Neither of them had answers. Just questions.
Thalion seemed to shake himself. Returned to the interrogation as if seeking safer ground.
"The ancient Flamebearer bloodline showed documented patterns of destabilization. Before the line ended, strategic management was implemented for realm stability."
"Managed," Seraphina repeated. "Not suppressed?"
"Managed appropriately through strategic oversight of the ancient Celestines. The concentrated magical abilities proved too volatile. Eventually, the last known Flamebearer's actions forced more direct intervention."
He just described what happened to ancient Celestines.
"More direct intervention." Careful phrasing.
He speaks as if it ended there. With whatever that intervention was.
He has no idea anything continued after in secret.
"And this bloodline?" Seraphina asked carefully. "Does the empire track descendants?"
"There are no descendants to track. The last Flamebearer died in imperial prison over a century ago." His answer came with absolute certainty. "Convicted of the greatest crime against the realm. The line is extinct."
The greatest crime. He genuinely believed that.
They imprisoned her ancestor. Let her die there. Then documented it as justice.
But what crime? What did they accuse her of that justified execution?
"What crime?" Seraphina kept her voice neutral.
"Creating unauthorized cosmic stability that destabilized realm barriers." Thalion's expression showed no doubt. "The demon incursions that began over a century ago trace directly to her interference. She weakened the boundaries between realms trying to enforce her own magical structure without imperial sanction. The archives are explicit about the threat she posed."
They blamed her for the demon incursions. She was maintaining the cosmic barriers. They killed her in prison.
And blamed her for what happened after she died.
But if the line went extinct, why did Mother find four generations of marriage records? Four generations of Celestine women who should not exist?
Someone knew the line continued. Someone orchestrated keeping it hidden while the official archives said they were gone.
The heir must have been erased from records. Made invisible.
But kept alive.
She spoke of "Celestine lands" to the Dukes during war planning. Claimed territorial wards requiring D'Lorien family activation.
That information had circulated through court channels by now. And no one questioned it.
Just an old territorial name. Like how estates kept ancient names long after the families that built them were gone.
He has no idea that "Celestine lands" and "House Celestine bloodline" connect. That the extinct line never actually died.
The suppression was so thorough that even hearing about "Celestine territories" triggered no recognition. Not in the Dukes. Not in anyone who heard the reports. They thought it was geography. Not living heritage.
"I see," Seraphina said quietly. "And the current Flamebearer?"
"If an active Flamebearer exists, the empire would need to assess threat level. Implement proper oversight." His tone carried absolute conviction. "The realm's stability matters more than individual autonomy when dealing with dangerous magical heritage."
He just said they would force her into another marriage if they knew. Called her autonomy less important than "stability."
A dangerous question crystallized in her mind. What if Mother could not identify the architects because they were too high to see?
What if they were sitting on the throne itself?
Seraphina studied the Crown Prince across the carriage.
Young. Educated. Shoulders held with the certainty of someone who had never questioned what he was taught. His voice when citing archives carried the same conviction priests used when quoting scripture.
Raised on this. Indoctrinated from childhood.
By whom? Imperial tutors. Court advisors.
His mother.
The thought she had been avoiding landed with cold finality. She should turn back.
Everything he was saying screamed danger. The royal family might be complicit in four generations of suppression. She was riding toward the capital with proof that the throne itself might be her enemy.
And she needed them. Needed their permission.
To dissolve her marriage to Alaric, she required imperial approval. From Eleanor. From Thalion as Crown Prince.
She was asking the people who might consider her a threat to grant her freedom from a marriage that might be part of their conspiracy.
Turn back, and she stayed trapped with Alaric. Go forward, and she put herself in the hands of potential architects. No good options. Only calculated risks.
But even as the thought formed, she knew she would not retreat.
Mother died not knowing who orchestrated this. She found the pattern across four hidden generations, found the connections after the supposed extinction, but could not identify the hand behind it all.
She wrote: "The real architects hide behind proxies and purchased loyalty."
What if the proxy was the throne? What if the architects who killed ancient Celestines were still operating, still hiding behind imperial authority? The same people who documented the crimes and the death might still be covering up survival.
I cannot fight what I do not understand.
She could not dismantle a conspiracy she could not map.
I go forward. Into potential enemy territory.
Not because I trust Eleanor. Because I need to know.