The Ember Within: A Tale of Fire, Fall, and Finding Purpose
Chapter 7 – Royal Schemes
By Victor Simdrix
Far from Emberfall's burning alarms, the marble halls of Stormspire Palace glittered under torchlight. Gold-veined columns rose into vaulted ceilings, their shadows twisting like serpents with every flicker of flame.
Upon the obsidian throne sat Queen Selindra Dawnfire, her jeweled crown catching the light like sharpened blades. To most, she was a vision of grace—tall, ageless, her eyes the blue of frozen fire. But to those who truly knew her, Selindra was a storm contained, her words weapons, her smiles knives.
Around her, courtiers whispered in velvet clusters. Reports had arrived of unrest in Emberfall. Of wraithkin sightings. Of a girl who had survived the Ember Trial.
"Lies," scoffed Lord Vaelor Drakeshade, one of the Queen's closest advisors. His crimson cloak trailed like spilled blood as he leaned on his cane. "No one has walked the Ember unscathed in centuries."
Another voice rose—a sharper, colder tone. Prince Malakar, Selindra's estranged son, stood at the far end of the hall, clad in black steel. Shadows curled about him, almost alive, the faint stench of ash lingering in his wake.
"It is no lie," Malakar said. "The girl exists. And she is mine to claim."
The courtiers fell silent, as though the air itself had been struck.
Selindra's smile was thin. "You speak boldly, child. But tell me—what makes you think you have any claim upon the Ember?"
Malakar's eyes gleamed with hunger. "Because I have felt her fire. It calls to me. And when I bind her flame to the Wraith, no kingdom will withstand me—not even you, mother."
Whispers broke out like wildfire. Treason, some murmured. Destiny, said others.
But Kaelith, seated quietly at the Queen's side, stiffened. He had been silent through the council, playing the dutiful son, the unassuming prince. Yet the mention of Nyra pierced him like a blade. He remembered her eyes during the Trial—defiant, terrified, alive. He remembered how she had looked at him, not as a prince, but as a boy trying to help.
He could not let Malakar have her.
"Mother," Kaelith spoke, rising at last. His voice was steady though his hands trembled inside his sleeves. "If such a girl exists, then surely her power must be guarded, not corrupted. Should we not send emissaries to protect her before our enemies reach her?"
The Queen's gaze sharpened, testing him. "You speak of protection. Malakar speaks of conquest. Which of you, I wonder, understands the Ember's true purpose?"
Malakar sneered. "Protection is weakness. Fire exists to consume."
Kaelith forced himself to meet his mother's icy stare. "Or to illuminate."
The throne room pulsed with tension.
Selindra leaned back, her fingers tracing the edge of her crown. At last, she said:
"Very well. I will send two forces—one under Malakar, one under Kaelith. Let us see which of my sons brings me the truth of this girl. And whichever of you succeeds… shall prove yourselves worthy of the crown."
Gasps rippled through the court.
Kaelith bowed low to mask his racing thoughts. He knew what this meant: his brother would come for Nyra with chains and shadows. And Kaelith… Kaelith would have to find her first.
Somewhere beyond the palace walls, the bells of Emberfall still rang.
And fate's hourglass had begun to empty.