Lucian awoke in the quiet before dawn.
Kyrell was still sleeping, tangled in the sheets beside him after so much deeds earlier, his breath warm against Lucian's shoulder. His skin glowed faintly under the moonlight, as if marked by more than passion—marked by prophecy.
Lucian watched him for a moment.
There had been love in last night's fire.
But peace... peace had no place in this world.
He rose silently, wrapping a black robe around his hips and stepping barefoot onto the balcony. The forest line beyond the castle glowed faintly red, even now.
It had not stopped burning.
He closed his eyes.
A voice echoed in the back of his mind—low, ancient, blistered with memory:
> "You are not the heir. You are the thief."
---
Elsewhere—miles beneath the castle—Mara was trembling.
The ritual had failed earlier to make Kyrell hurt or forget Lucian,Kyrell still knew Lucian. Worse—he had chosen him.
She dragged her clawed fingers across the runes she had carved into the ground, her mouth twisted in disbelief.
"You've bound yourself to a man that will burn the world, Kyrell..." she hissed into the dark.
Behind her, the shadows stirred.
A low laugh. Familiar. Male.
"You act as though you're surprised."
She turned sharply. "Damien?"
He stepped out from the dark, his body still marked by burns where the spell had once cracked him open. But his eyes burned with something worse now—conviction.
"I burned through the silence."
"You look like death."
He grinned darkly. "Then death must suit me."
Mara stepped forward. "What do you want?"
"I want Lucian gone," Damien said flatly. "And if I can't take Kyrell back... then I'll help you tear them both apart."
---
Above them, as if summoned by their betrayal, the First Flame opened his eyes beneath the earth.
The walls of his tomb crumbled. Ash spilled upward like reversed snowfall.
And in a voice that shook even the most ancient bones, he whispered:
"Let the second trial begin."
---
Back at the castle, Kyrell stirred in Lucian's bed.
Alone.
The warmth was gone.
He rose slowly, sheets slipping from his bare skin, and found Lucian at the far end of the chamber, staring out into the firelit horizon.
"Couldn't sleep?" Kyrell asked softly.
Lucian didn't answer.
So Kyrell stepped closer and slid his arms around Lucian's waist from behind, his lips brushing the bare expanse of his back. "I told you I'd be your peace, Lucian."
Lucian turned, eyes heavy. "You were."
"Were?"
"There is no more peace. The god has awakened."
Kyrell's heart stilled. "Then what now?"
Lucian leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
His voice was low.
"Now we prepare to be hated for surviving."
---
Far beneath them, the voice of fire surged again. The god walked now—not in dreams or myths, but in the waking world. Bones turned to dust beneath his footsteps. The world remembered his name.
And that name?
Would be carved into Lucian's blood before the end.
---