Valecrown rose from the plains like a promise sharpened into a weapon. White stone towers climbed toward the sky, their spires catching dawn light and turning it into gold. From afar, it looked serene holy, even. From within, it was a nest of vipers. Seris stood at the balcony of the western wing, hands resting on the cold marble rail. Below her, the capital stirred awake: banners unfurled, bells rang, courtiers whispered. They did not know.
Behind her, Lord Caelum knelt on one knee. "The High Council sealed the Inner Gates before sunrise," he said. "They control the eastern barracks. Three lords have declared support for the regency."
Seris did not turn. "Names."
"Lord Veyron of Thalspire. Lady Marrec of Goldreach. And ..." Caelum hesitated.
"Say it."
"Archduke Halvar."
Seris's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Halvar raised me," she said quietly.
"Yes, Your Radiance."
The silence that followed was not fragile ,it was lethal. Elowen stood near the doorway, watching Seris from the shadows. This was a different battlefield than Ironholt. No roar of dragons. No clash of steel. Just betrayal dressed in silk.
"A regency," Elowen said at last. "They're calling you unfit."
"They're calling me a child," Seris replied. "Still."
She turned then, her expression composed, regal, untouched by the fracture beneath it. "They will announce it by noon. Claim I've been 'misled by foreign influence.'"
Elowen snorted. "Let me guess. That's me."
"Yes."
Elowen smiled without humor. "I'm flattered."
Seris crossed the room, each step measured. "This is where you leave."
Elowen stiffened. "No."
Seris stopped in front of her. "Elowen."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I do," Seris said softly. "If they succeed, they will execute you publicly. Witch-blood. Enemy heir. Convenient scapegoat."
"And if I stay?" Elowen challenged.
Seris's gaze flickered just once. "Then they might use you to break me."
Elowen stepped closer. "You assume you're the only one who knows how to pretend to be weak." Something dangerous passed between them.
"You taught me restraint," Elowen continued. "You don't get to deny me the choice." Seris studied her for a long moment. Then she exhaled.
"Fine," she said. "But you do exactly as I say."
Elowen arched a brow. "That's new." A ghost of a smile touched Seris's lips. Then it vanished.
The Council Chamber smelled of incense and old lies. Twelve seats ringed the circular hall, carved with sigils meant to bind truth. Only nine were occupied. At the center stood Archduke Halvar. He did not look like a traitor. He looked tired.
"Your Radiance," he said when Seris entered, bowing just deeply enough to appear respectful. "We feared you would not return in time." Seris took her throne without invitation.
"I heard you feared many things," she said evenly. "Including my rule." Murmurs rippled.
Lady Marrec stood. "You have endangered the empire. You consort with forbidden powers. You reveal weapons best left buried."
"You mean the dragons," Seris said. Marrec flinched.
"Yes," she said sharply. "Those."
Seris leaned forward slightly. "They are not weapons."
"Then what are they?" Lord Veyron demanded.
"My responsibility."
Halvar raised a hand. "Enough. This is not an accusation ,it is a necessity. The empire needs stability. You are young. Unmarried. Surrounded by threats."
Seris's gaze locked onto his. "You mean I cannot be controlled."
A hush fell.
"The regency will rule until such time as…."
"….until I am replaced," Seris finished. "Say it plainly."
Halvar swallowed. "Until you are… guided." Seris laughed. Not loudly and Not kindly.
"You taught me to read maps," she said. "To count grain. To judge men by what they fear. Tell me, Halvar what do you fear most right now?" He did not answer. Seris rose.
The sigils in the floor flared faintly.
"I am the Empress of Astraeum," she said, voice carrying like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. "Crowned by blood and bound by oath. You do not grant me power." The chamber shook. Lady Marrec gasped as her chair cracked.
Veyron backed away. "This is coercion!"
"No," Seris said. "This is restraint ending." Elowen felt it then the shift. The dragons were not here, but something ancient stirred beneath the palace stones. Seris lifted her hand. And then A scream. Not magical, Not distant but Human.
The doors burst open as a guard stumbled in, bleeding. "They've taken the eastern tower," he shouted. "The barracks are in revolt…" Halvar's face drained of color.
"Who?" Seris asked coldly.
The guard looked at Elowen.
"At… at Ravenspire's banners," he stammered. "They're inside the city."
Elowen swore. "That's impossible." Seris went very still.
"No," she said softly. "It's not." She turned to the council, eyes like molten gold.
"You wanted chaos," Seris said. "Congratulations."
The palace shook again , harder this time. From somewhere deep beneath Valecrown, a roar answered. Low. Ancient. Awake.
Seris looked at Elowen.
"Stay close," she said.
Elowen's heart pounded. "I thought you said the dragons wouldn't come." Seris's expression was calm.
"I didn't call them," she said.
The roar echoed again closer.
"Someone else did."
Valecrown began to panic. Bells rang out of rhythm, clashing over one another like frightened voices. Smoke curled up from the eastern quarter where steel met stone and loyalty fractured into blood. From the council chamber's shattered windows, Elowen saw Ravenspire's crimson-black banners snapping above rooftops.
"They shouldn't be inside the walls," she said tightly. "Not without help."
"They had help," Seris replied. "They always do."
She turned on Archduke Halvar, her voice deadly quiet. "You opened the gates."
Halvar staggered back as if struck. "I did it to save the empire."
"By selling its capital."
"I needed leverage!" he shouted, desperation cracking his composure. "Ravenspire promised stability. They promised to remove you quietly."
Elowen's magic flared instinctively. "Quietly?"
Seris lifted a hand calm, restraining. "And after?" she asked Halvar. Halvar's mouth opened. No words came.
Seris nodded once. "That's what I thought."
Another roar rolled through the palace closer now, shaking dust from the ceiling. Courtiers screamed. The sigils along the walls burned brighter, struggling to contain something that did not recognize them as law.
Veyron backed toward the door. "This is madness. We must flee."
"No," Seris said. "You must witness." She strode past them, cloak billowing, and Elowen followed without hesitation. They emerged onto the Grand Terrace just as the sky darkened unnaturally. Clouds twisted into a spiraling mass above the eastern tower. And then It broke. A dragon burst through the clouds in a torrent of flame and shattered stone. Not one of Seris's.
Elowen felt it instantly wrongness in the air. This creature's fire burned black at the edges, its scales jagged and scarred, wings torn and mended too many times.
"Bound," Elowen whispered. "Someone chained its will." The dragon roared again, agony layered beneath rage.
Seris's jaw tightened. "Ravenspire brought a broken king." The dragon struck the eastern tower. Stone exploded. Men scattered like ants. Fire rained down in oily sheets that clung and burned.
The city screamed. Seris stepped forward to the edge of the terrace.
"Elowen," she said quietly. "This one is not my enemy."
Elowen looked at her sharply. "Then why are we fighting it?"
"Because they are using it," Seris replied. "And I will not allow that." She raised both hands.
The air split. Gold light flared across the sky, carving sigils so vast they dwarfed the palace. The ground answered with a deep, resonant hum like a heartbeat returning after centuries of silence. Elowen felt it echo in her bones. Seris was no longer hiding. The dragon in the sky faltered, its roar breaking into a pained, confused cry. Seris spoke not in any tongue Elowen recognized. Ancient. Resonant. Command layered with compassion.
The dragon hesitated. Chains of dark magic flared into visibility around its neck and wings runic brands burning into its scales. Ravenspire sorcerers appeared atop nearby rooftops, chanting frantically, trying to force the dragon back into rage.
Elowen snarled. "Oh, I hate when they do that." She moved.
Witchfire exploded from her hands as she leapt onto a nearby parapet, magic lashing out in precise arcs. She did not attack the dragon. She attacked the chains. Runes shattered under her spellwork, green-gold fire unraveling black magic thread by thread. The sorcerers screamed as backlash tore through them. The dragon shrieked then stilled. For one impossible moment, the city held its breath. The chains snapped. The dragon's eyes once dull and furious cleared, burning molten amber.
It looked at Seris. And bowed. A sound went through Valecrown not fear this time, but awe. Ravenspire's soldiers faltered.
Seris lowered her hands slowly, exhaustion finally cracking through her composure. "You are free," she said, this time in common tongue. "Go. Do not let them bind you again."
The dragon rumbled, low and reverent. Then it turned, wings beating hard And vanished into the clouds. Silence followed. Then Applause. Scattered at first. Disbelieving. Then growing. From soldiers. From servants. From citizens who had watched their empress choose mercy over domination. Halvar collapsed to his knees.
"I was wrong," he whispered. Seris did not look at him. She looked at Elowen. Elowen stood on the parapet, smoke curling around her, eyes bright with magic and fury and something else entirely.
"You freed it," Elowen said softly.
"So did you," Seris replied. Their gazes locked. For a moment, the chaos faded. The world narrowed to the space between them. Then Caelum's voice cut through the stillness.
"Your Radiance another problem."
Seris exhaled. "Of course there is." Caelum gestured toward the western horizon. Black banners, Different sigils but not Ravenspire.
Elowen's blood chilled. "That's… that's my father's crest."
Seris's expression hardened. "Ysvelda."
Elowen nodded. "They've come for me." Seris stepped closer, her voice low and unyielding. "Then they've come to the wrong city." Above them, thunder rolled not from the sky, but from deep beneath the palace. The true dragons stirred. And war, long delayed, finally chose its sides.
The western horizon burned red not with fire, but with numbers. Ysvelda's army moved like a tide, banners bearing the silver thorn-and-moon crest snapping in the wind. Rows of cavalry advanced with ritual precision, witch-lanterns glowing along their flanks. This was not a hurried march. This was a claim.
Elowen's breath came shallow. "They weren't supposed to move yet."
Seris stood beside her at the terrace edge, posture rigid, eyes sharp. "They sensed weakness."
Elowen laughed bitterly. "They always do." Below them, Valecrown's citizens gathered in frightened clusters. Soldiers looked west, then up waiting. Watching their empress.
Seris turned to Caelum. "Seal the Inner Ring. Evacuate the western districts. No one engages without my command."
"Yes, Your Radiance." As Caelum hurried off, Seris faced Elowen fully. "Tell me everything. Now." Elowen hesitated. Not because she feared Seris but because saying it aloud would make it real.
"My father lives," she said at last. "King Althoren of Ysvelda. He believes I'm a liability. My stepmother believes I'm a threat."
"And your powers?" Seris asked.
"Unregistered. Unbound. Forbidden." Elowen's jaw tightened. "They think marrying me off will solve that."
Seris's eyes darkened. "To whom?"
Elowen's voice dropped. "Ironholt." Seris went very still.
"That alliance would shatter the balance," she said.
"Yes," Elowen replied. "That's why they want it." A horn sounded from the western wall long, deliberate. Ysvelda's herald rode forward beneath a banner of truce.
Seris watched without expression. "They want to negotiate."
"They want me," Elowen said.
Seris turned sharply. "They will not have you."
Elowen met her gaze. "You can't protect me from my own blood forever."
"Watch me." For a heartbeat, Elowen forgot the armies. Forgot the palace. Forgot the city holding its breath. She saw only the girl who had worn a crown since childhood and refused to let it define the limits of her heart.
"I don't want war because of me," Elowen said quietly.
Seris's voice softened but did not bend. "War came the moment they decided you were property." The herald's voice echoed from below, amplified by magic.
"By decree of King Althoren of Ysvelda, we demand the surrender of Elowen Vireth Morrayne. She stands accused of treason against her bloodline and unlawful practice of witchcraft." Murmurs rippled through the city. Elowen stepped forward. Before Seris could stop her.
"I will go," Elowen said.
Seris's hand closed around her wrist instantly. "No."
"If I don't," Elowen said, turning to her, "they will burn your borders trying to reach me."
Seris's grip tightened. "Let them."
Elowen shook her head. "You rule ten kingdoms. I am one girl."
"You are not just one girl," Seris snapped then caught herself.
She exhaled slowly. "You are under my protection."
Elowen smiled sadly. "That's the problem." She leaned closer, voice dropping so only Seris could hear. "If I stay, they will use me to control you. If I leave….."
"I lose you," Seris said quietly. The truth of it hung between them, raw and unguarded.
Elowen swallowed. "This was never supposed to be… this." Seris searched her face, as if memorizing it.
"No," she said. "But it is." Another roar echoed deeper this time. The palace trembled as something massive shifted beneath stone.
Elowen felt it too. "Your dragons are restless."
"They sense danger," Seris replied. "And betrayal." Seris released Elowen's wrist slowly.
"If you go to them," Seris said, voice steady but eyes burning, "you go as my envoy not their prisoner."
Elowen's breath hitched. "Seris!!!"
"You will wear my seal," Seris continued. "They will know that harming you is an act of war against Astraeum."
"And if they don't care?" Seris smiled cold, brilliant, terrifying. "Then I will remind them why the world learned to fear my empire." Elowen stepped closer, their foreheads nearly touching.
"This doesn't change what we are," Elowen whispered.
Seris's voice was barely sound. "No."
"But it will," Elowen said softly. "For a while."
The herald shouted again. "We await your answer!"
Seris straightened, mask sliding back into place. She raised her voice, carrying power and promise.
"Elowen Vireth Morrayne will come," Seris declared, "under my protection and by my will." Gasps echoed.
"And understand this," Seris added, gold flaring faintly in her eyes. "If a single drop of her blood is spilled, I will reduce Ysvelda to ash and memory." The herald paled.
Elowen looked at Seris….really looked at her.
"Thank you," she said quietly. Seris did not respond. She could not trust her voice. As Elowen turned toward the stairs, the ground rumbled once more. Deep below Valecrown, ten ancient hearts beat in unison. And far to the west, a queen who ruled dragons let the world believe she was letting her greatest weakness walk willingly into enemy hands.
Night fell over Valecrown like a held breath. Torches lined the inner courtyard, their flames bending unnaturally toward Elowen as she descended the palace steps. The seal of Astraeum Seris's sigil rested heavy at her throat, warm as if alive. The city watched. Some with fear. Some with reverence. Some with betrayal still flickering behind their eyes.
Seris stood at the top of the stairs, unmoving, a figure carved from moonlight and steel. To the world, she looked composed. Elowen knew better. She stopped halfway down and turned back. Seris did not move but her eyes lifted instantly. For a moment, there were no armies. No crowns. No histories heavy with blood. Just two girls standing on opposite sides of a choice neither had truly wanted.
"Don't let them see you hesitate," Elowen said softly.
Seris's jaw tightened. "You don't get to tell me how to rule."
Elowen smiled faintly. "Then don't let them see you care." That struck deeper than any blade. Seris descended the steps in three long strides and stopped in front of Elowen, close enough that the guards pretended very hard not to notice. Her voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You will not trust them," Seris said.
"You will not drink anything they offer."
"You will not let their priests touch you."
Elowen nodded. "And you?"
"I will prepare for war."
Elowen's breath caught. "So certain?" Seris leaned closer, her crown shadowing her eyes.
"They have already chosen it." Silence stretched thin and trembling.
Then Elowen reached out, fingers brushing Seris's gloved hand. The contact was brief. Barely there. But it burned.
"If I don't come back," Elowen said quietly…. Seris caught her wrist instantly.
"You will," she said, voice fierce and unyielding. "Do not speak endings like that."
Elowen searched her face. "Seris… if they force a marriage…."
"They won't," Seris said.
"And if they do?"
Seris's voice dropped to something raw. "Then I will burn the world that tries to take you from me." It was not a threat. It was a promise. For a heartbeat, Elowen thought Seris might kiss her. Instead, Seris pressed her forehead briefly to Elowen's an intimate gesture no one else would recognize for what it was.
"What queens do not say," Seris murmured, "they show."
Elowen closed her eyes. "Then show me you'll survive this." Seris pulled back first. Always first. She raised her hand. The air trembled. Far beyond the city, unseen by mortal eyes, ten immense shapes shifted within shadow and flame and storm. Not attacking. Watching. Waiting.
Elowen descended the final steps. Ysvelda's escort waited below silver armor, witch-lanterns glowing faintly blue, eyes too sharp, smiles too practiced. As Elowen mounted the waiting horse, the ground beneath Valecrown pulsed once slow and deep. A warning. High above the palace, thunder rolled across a clear sky. Seris remained where she was long after the procession departed. Only when the banners vanished into the darkness did she speak.
"Caelum."
Her supervisor appeared instantly, kneeling. "Your Radiance."
"Prepare the empire," Seris said quietly. "Recall the outer fleets. Wake the eastern forges. Send word to the ten crowns."
"Yes, Your Radiance." Seris turned toward the sealed balcony doors that led deep beneath the palace toward truths no council had ever known.
"And," she added, voice dropping into something ancient, something feared, "summon the dragons."
Caelum froze. "All of them?"
Seris's eyes glowed faintly gold in the torchlight.
"Yes," she said. "My friends will be hungry." Far away, riding beneath enemy banners, Elowen felt the sigil at her throat flare warm. She looked back once just once toward the distant silhouette of Valecrown. And wondered which of them would be forced to become something unforgivable first.