The great hall of Emberfall's southern keep was alive with the dull murmur of courtiers and guards moving through the morning light, banners fluttering in the warm summer breeze. Though familiar, everything looked... sharper. Clearer. Like I was seeing it for the first time again. Or maybe the first time properly.
I moved through the stone corridor with steady steps, ignoring the startled glances of servants. A few even bowed out of habit. That wouldn't last long.
Captain Taren was already waiting near the barracks, standing in full leather armor despite the rising heat. His beard was trimmed as always, his eyes narrow with discipline. Of all my father's commanders, Taren was one of the few who treated me like more than a disappointment.
He saluted crisply. "Prince Kael. I was told you were still recovering."
I nodded. "I was. I'm not anymore. Walk with me."
Taren didn't hesitate. We moved along the training yard's edge, where young squires struggled with wooden swords. Their shouts echoed off the walls, rhythmic and familiar. I watched them with a new kind of awareness. These boys were the future soldiers of Emberfall—just like I had been once. I wondered how many of them would survive the chaos to come.
"Your patrol three days ago," I began, "do you still have the map we drew?"
Taren blinked. "Of the Flame March? Yes. Why?"
"I need to see it."
We entered the strategy room beside the armory. He unrolled a faded map across the oaken table. I traced my finger across the region just south of the Dagger Vale.
"We were ambushed here. Supposedly by raiders," I said. "But I remember their formation. Too clean. They weren't just scavengers."
Taren's brow furrowed. "You believe it was a coordinated strike?"
"I know it was. And I think someone inside the castle knew our path."
Taren went still. He didn't speak for a while. I didn't press him.
In the past, I had never said it aloud. Never pushed. Never investigated. I'd been too naive. Too trusting. But now I had the gift of hindsight—and I wouldn't waste it.
"Captain," I said, lowering my voice, "how much do you trust the High Steward?"
He hesitated. "With the finances of the court? Implicitly. With our lives? I'd count my fingers afterward."
I smirked. Same old Taren.
"Start watching him," I said. "Quietly. And if any messengers leave the city under his seal in the next two weeks, I want to know."
Taren looked at me for a long moment. "You've changed."
"I've woken up."
What I didn't say was that this was only the beginning. There were pieces I still didn't understand: the identity of the masked assassin in the hall of mirrors, the purpose of the sigil carved into the Temple Vaults, the name scrawled in blood beneath my old cell.
All of them had haunted my final days. And all of them had led to the same conclusion: I had been a pawn.
Not anymore.
---
By mid-afternoon, I returned to my chambers and found a visitor waiting.
Lyra.
She sat by the window, legs drawn up, sunlight spilling across her pale cloak. Her dark curls framed a face too clever for her age. She looked up as I entered, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"You sent for Taren," she said before I could speak. "And the servants say you've been walking like you were never injured."
I leaned against the doorframe. "You've been spying on me."
"You're acting strange. Paranoid. You never even liked Taren before."
"I didn't know who I could trust."
Her gaze narrowed. "And now you do?"
"No," I said. "But I'm learning."
She stood, brushing off her skirts. "Something's wrong with you. I can feel it. You look at everyone like they're ghosts. Even me."
I hesitated.
She was right. I did see ghosts—ghosts of a life no one remembered but me.
"I was given a second chance," I said, barely a whisper. "I don't know why. But I won't waste it."
She tilted her head. "Second chance? What are you talking about?"
I stepped closer. "Lyra, in the years to come, everything falls apart. Alric betrays Father. Marek flees. Regan dies. The kingdom burns. And I—I'm blamed for all of it."
She stared at me, mouth parted. "You sound insane."
"I wish I was."
There was a long silence.
Then, softly, she said, "Tell me everything."
So I did.
Not all at once. Not every detail. But enough.
Enough to see fear in her eyes.
And resolve.
"If this is true," she said slowly, "then everything we know is a lie."
"Not everything," I replied. "But most of it."
She looked out the window, expression unreadable. Then she turned back to me and nodded.
"I'll help you. Whatever you need."
---
That night, I didn't sleep.
The Emberbrand stirred under my skin like embers in wind. I sat by the cold hearth, staring into shadows, reaching inward. No chants. No sigils. Just focus.
The fire answered.
> [Skill Acquired: Ember Sense Lv. 1] [You can now detect remnants of heat-based energy within a limited radius.]
Flames flickered behind my eyes. I could feel the warmth of torches down the hall, the fading heat of footsteps on stone. The world shimmered with unseen currents.
It was intoxicating.
Dangerous.
And mine.
When dawn came, I didn't feel tired.
I felt powerful.
The Emberbrand was more than a curse.
It was a door. A path to something forbidden—and ancient.
---
Word of my recovery spread fast. Too fast.
By mid-morning, a royal summons arrived. Father wished to see me.
The throne room hadn't changed. Tall pillars of obsidian and gold. Stained-glass windows that filtered light into spears across the marble floor. Guards flanked either side, stiff and silent.
King Aldric sat on the Flame Throne—his armor black and crimson, his crown an iron circlet shaped like rising flames. He looked down at me like a smith inspecting flawed metal.
"Kael," he said, voice low and even. "I hear you've returned from death."
"Only the edge of it, sire."
He raised an eyebrow. "And now you call meetings with my captains? Issue commands?"
"I acted on concern for our security."
Alric stepped forward, smirking. "Concern? From the boy who once snuck a wyvern egg into the chapel because he thought it was 'too lonely?'"
I met his gaze coolly. "And you're still angry it liked me more than you."
His face darkened.
Father held up a hand.
"Enough. Kael, if you truly believe a traitor walks our halls, prove it."
"I intend to."
He studied me. I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Or maybe curiosity.
"Very well. You have three weeks. Make your case—or drop this madness."
I bowed. "Yes, Father."
As I turned to leave, I caught Alric glaring daggers into my back.
Let him.
The fire had only just begun to burn.