Location: Velthar – Royal Throne Hall. One day after the assassination attempt. The king lives. The Court retreats. But now... the politics begin.
The Royal Hall Restored
Velthar's grand hall had been hastily rebuilt—gold banners and flameetched glass reflecting morning light. The tension, however, was harder to sweep away.
Grim stood before the throne, cloak scorched, Ether Core faintly pulsing after his sacrifice.
To his left, Max, arms crossed in composed silence. Hadi beside him, vibrating with restless energy.
Ayesha, ever still, watched from the upper balcony—eagle eyes scanning every noble in the room.
And to Grim's right… stood Tristan, gleaming as if he'd walked off the page of a scandalous romance scroll.
The King's Speech
King Raevan of Velthar—grey at the temples now, but alive and ironwilled—addressed the court.
"These students, these children of ash, crossed borders and bled for a king not their own. For this, Velthar owes more than gratitude."
He turned to Grim.
"You carry a weight few can bear. And yet... you chose to share it."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Velthar will honor this bond. You have our alliance. And protection. Should the Court rise again, it will face our fire beside yours."
The nobles muttered. The loyal bowed.
Grim gave a short nod. "We accept."
And Then...
"Excuse me," Tristan said suddenly, stepping forward.
Everyone turned.
The king blinked. "Yes?"
Tristan bowed—not low enough—and glanced at Princess Seris, standing in ceremonial armor beside her father.
"Before we return, I'd be remiss not to offer my thanks to the royal family. Especially to the one whose smile might just make all this burning worth it."
Seris raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Your Highness," Tristan said, straightening with a grin, "if I ever become a king myself... I'd ask for a queen with half your fire."
The entire hall went quiet.
Max muttered, "Oh no."
Grim didn't even flinch. "Let him cook."
The king stared, unmoving.
"You flirt with my daughter after saving my life?" he said.
Tristan nodded. "Boldness is a side effect of neardeath experiences."
A beat of silence.
Then Raevan exhaled.
"Seris, how do you feel about this... boy?"
Seris tilted her head, smiled slyly. "He amuses me. For now."
Raevan grunted. "He dies later."
Before Departure
As the Flameborn prepared to leave, the king offered each of them tokens etched with his sigil—proof of alliance, and protection if they ever returned.
"You are welcome in Velthar," he said, "but you bring fire with you. Be mindful where you let it burn."
Sparks flickered nearby, still bodiless.
"We make no promises," she said softly. "But we burn only what dares threaten our kind."
Grim glanced at her.
"You still okay?"
"Still a spark," she whispered. "But not lost anymore."
The Road Back to Ashenwell
They left at dawn.
Velthar faded behind them, its throne stronger, but its court scarred.
Grim walked ahead, shadows long behind him.
Tristan rode beside Seris for a while. They laughed—too loud.
Max, Hadi, and Ayesha moved like wolves behind them—watchful and ready.
And Sparks, drifting through Grim's thoughts, whispered,
"You gave up power to save a king. What will you give up to save yourself?"
He didn't answer.
But the fire within him pulsed, low and steady.