Lira didn't sleep that night.
She sat on the edge of a bed fit for queens so wide it felt like an island adrift in a frozen sea. The room itself was carved from living ice walls shimmering with embedded veins of soft blue light that pulsed like distant stars trapped beneath frost-glazed glass. No fire burned here. No lamp glowed. Only moonlight filtered through crystal arches high above.
She was alone but not untouched by memory.
In her hands lay the velvet cloth Varden had used to carry it the locket still resting beside her thigh where she'd placed it after staring too long into its cursed mirror-image…
That face was mine.
Not similar.
Not close.
It was her except older. Crowned in gold woven like vines around her head. Dressed in robes stitched with flame sigils only royalty could bear standing beside Kaelen Varden not as prisoner before captor but as lovers sealed together by choice.
And he said he'd painted it himself.
Five hundred years ago?
Impossible.
Insane.
Yet
Why would he lie?
Why fake such a thing?
Unless this wasn't about conquest
But grief?
A soft knock echoed against silence and before Lira could respond the heavy ice-carved door slid open without warning or permission.
A woman stepped inside not armored like Frostsworn guards but draped in deep violet robes embroidered with silver thread forming ancient glyphs that shimmered faintly as she moved:
"Guardian of Memory."
"You're awake," said the woman calmly as if unsurprised despite arriving just before dawn."Good."
Her voice held age wrapped gently within warmth a grandmother's tone carrying lifetimes behind simple words spoken softly now under palace hush broken only by wind outside howling low through spires tall enough to touch clouds
"I am Sylra," she continued "High Keeper of Echoes and I have waited five centuries for you to return."
Lira stiffened."You knew who I'd become?"
Sylra smiled a mother's expression hiding sorrow deeper than glaciers beneath tundra surface
"Princess Lyssara promised me she would come back one day." She stepped closer slowly—as if approaching startled wild deer rather than defiant girl "And when you touched that locket earlier? The runes beneath this palace… they trembled."
"What does that mean?" Lira asked warily hand instinctively curling toward wrist still warm from pulse-like hum where silver cuff pressed against skin
"It means your soul has begun reawakening," Sylra murmured "The Fireblood stirs within you once more."
"Fireblood?" Lira whispered though something primal inside chest flared sharply sudden answering call hidden bone-deep
"The royal bloodline lost during the Great Fracture War," Sylra said solemnly lowering voice further so even air itself might not steal sacred truth meant hear ears alone "All heirs slain except one... Princess Lyssara Valmourn—who died shielding another..."
Silence fell heavier than mountain snowfall crushing valley below until single breath dared break hush between them
Then quietly... painfully...
"The prince…" Lира spoke name knowing already somehow true beyond reason "Varden."
Sylra nodded once eyes glistening wet unshed tears past lives lived waiting moment stand front same young woman whose courage once saved doomed kingdom
"She gave everything for him," Sylra whispered touching palm lightly over heart gesture honor tradition kept silent halls generations since fall emberspire
"And ever since?" asked lира finding difficult speak throat tight ache building center chest unfamiliar yet undeniable "He's searched…"
"For every rebirth cycle across five centuries," replied sylvia gravely "Until fate brought him back your village path last night—and yes—he took you because he knew."
Knew what? That i'm his dead lover reborn ? That my life ordinary nothing chosen suddenly thrown into legacy war magic betrayal love tested time ?
Before questions fully formed thought process lady turned heading toward exit hallway pause briefly glance back over shoulder expression gentle warning mixed hope rare seen world ruled ice fear silence
"You must appear today," sylvia told firmly indicating upcoming gathering great hallglass where court gathers sunrise ritual attendance mandatory unless exile sentenced frozen peak northern rim —death sentence essentially
"Wear this bracelet," added handing thin circlet forged silver etched tiny runes matched symbols traced along palace pillars floor ceiling alike upon first entering fortress earlier morning "It tempers energy flows prevents accidental