The bells of Ardent Keep tolled with thunderous joy, shaking dust from the rafters and rattling the stained-glass windows. The sound was meant to herald a new age of peace, yet to Kaelen Drayke it carried the weight of a warning drum.
He stood at the edge of the royal dais, armored in polished steel that reflected the blaze of hundreds of candles. The scent of roses and incense thickened the air, nearly choking him. Nobles swayed in silks and velvet, jewels winking like fireflies, and still Kaelen's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as though every bowing head might conceal an assassin.
The Fire Crown sat on a pedestal of black marble. Forged in the elder days, it gleamed with rubies that pulsed faintly, as though the artifact had a heartbeat. Legends claimed the crown was more than a symbol—it was a bond, a living fire that could unite or unmake entire kingdoms.
And tonight, it would rest upon King Aldric's brow.
"Sir Kaelen," the king's voice carried softly, just enough for him to hear. The monarch was robed in crimson, his lined face shadowed with strain. "You stand too tense. Do not make the people think their king trembles on his throne."
Kaelen forced a faint smile. "It isn't you I fear for, Your Majesty. It's the crown."
Aldric's hand twitched, then steadied. "Superstition. Today marks our triumph. Even the fae courts will have no choice but to bow when the Fire Crown blazes anew."
Kaelen said nothing. He had fought in the border wars against the fae. He had seen how their eyes glowed in the dark, how their blades turned steel to ash. They would never bow.
The high priest began the ritual. His chants filled the hall, low and droning, a language older than men. The crowd hushed, anticipation drawing them taut. Kaelen's eyes swept the chamber, tracing every shadow, every flicker of torchlight.
That was when he saw her.
A woman at the far edge of the chamber, hooded, her silver eyes catching the firelight for the briefest instant. Not human—Kaelen knew that at once. Her gaze held the weight of centuries, sharp and sorrowful. And though she stood silent among the crowd, she seemed to be watching him, not the crown.
His stomach clenched.
The high priest lifted the Fire Crown. The rubies flared, red as blood, casting the hall in crimson glow. Nobles gasped. The air itself grew hot.
Kaelen's instincts screamed. He stepped forward—too late.
The crown shuddered in the priest's hands. A hiss like steam filled the chamber. Then, with a sound like a thunderclap, the rubies cracked and erupted into flame. Fire roared upward, devouring banners, licking the rafters, spilling embers into the crowd. Screams tore the air.
The crown dissolved into sparks—no, not dissolved. The fire twisted, coiling like a serpent, then burst apart into a thousand fragments of glowing ash. The embers scattered, vanishing into nothingness.
The Fire Crown was gone.
Chaos erupted. Nobles shoved past one another, gowns tearing, jewels scattering across the floor. Guards drew steel, shouting orders lost in the din. Smoke blackened the vaulted ceiling.
Kaelen's training snapped into place. He shoved the king behind the throne, his shield raised against falling embers. But his eyes found the hooded woman again—silver flashing as she turned, slipping through the panicked crowd.
"Stop her!" Kaelen shouted, pointing.
Too late. She vanished into the smoke.
"Traitor!" The word cut across the chaos like a blade. Kaelen spun to find Lord Verrick, the king's spymaster, his gaunt face twisted with fury. "He let it happen! He warned us of the crown, and now it is gone!"
Dozens of eyes turned to Kaelen. In the confusion, the accusation took root like wildfire.
"He sabotaged the ritual!"
"Arrest him!"
"Protect the king!"
Steel rasped as guards closed in—not enemies, but his own brothers-in-arms. Kaelen backed toward the throne, rage boiling in his chest.
"I swore my life to the king!" he roared. "You think I would betray him?"
But Verrick's voice was iron. "Then why did you see it before it happened? Why call out the fae?"
The king's eyes, shadowed with doubt, met Kaelen's. And in that flicker of hesitation, Kaelen knew the court had already chosen its villain.
Hands grabbed his arms. He fought, slamming an elbow into a guard's jaw, kicking another backward. The dais rang with the clash of steel.
"Sir Kaelen!" the king shouted—but the rest was drowned in the chaos.
Something slammed into the hall—an explosion from the western doors. A squad of cloaked assassins stormed inside, blades glistening black. Nobles shrieked, scattering. The guards abandoned Kaelen to meet the attackers.
In the pandemonium, Kaelen saw his chance. He shoved past the melee, ducked a swinging blade, and dove through a side passage. Stone corridors swallowed him. He ran, smoke clawing his lungs, the echo of pursuit at his back.
By the time he reached the outer courtyard, the night sky blazed red. The crown's disappearance had stained the heavens with a phantom eclipse, a blood moon that hadn't been there before.
And standing beneath its glow, waiting in the shadows, was the hooded woman.
Her silver eyes met his. Calm, unflinching.
"They will call you traitor," she said, voice low and musical. "But you are not the one they should fear."
Kaelen drew his blade, fury and confusion tangling in his chest. "Who are you?"
The woman lowered her hood. Her hair shimmered like molten copper, her skin faintly luminescent. Not just fae—royal blood, if his memory of old tales served him.
"Lyra Valeis," she said. "And if you want to survive the night, you will come with me."
Kaelen tightened his grip on his sword. Trusting a fae was folly. But the shadows stirred at the edges of the courtyard, and he knew the guards would be hunting him already.
Lyra tilted her head, eyes glinting with something like pity. "The crown did not shatter. It was stolen. And if we do not find it, both our worlds will burn."
For one suspended heartbeat, Kaelen hesitated. Then the sound of boots thundered through the halls behind him.
With a curse, he sheathed his blade.
"Fine," he spat. "But if you betray me, Valeis, I'll make sure you regret it."
Lyra's faint smile held no fear. "Knight, if you stay with me, regret is certain. The only question is—will you live long enough to feel it?"
She turned, vanishing into the night.
And Kaelen, branded traitor and fugitive in the space of an hour, followed her into the shadows.