The sun had not yet risen, but the palace was already awake.
Quietly. Warily.
As if it sensed what the winds had whispered through the cracks in the marble:
Peace is not a promise. It is a pause.
Eira sat at the long council table, her hair unbraided, her crown resting beside a steaming cup of lavender tea. She hadn't slept.
Again.
The room around her buzzed with soft voices—rebuilding plans, trade routes, broken bridges, soil that needed blessing.
But her eyes kept drifting to the far end of the table.
To the empty chair where Kael should have been.
---
Envoys from the West
They arrived before noon.
Their ship, The Seraph's Whisper, was sleek and silver, sails laced with glowing runes that shimmered even in the sunlight. A relic from a kingdom thought long buried beneath the Western Sea.
Three stepped ashore, cloaked and hooded.
Their leader removed her hood first—a woman with ice-white eyes, skin like silver dust, and lips the color of iron.
"I am Lysathe of the Moondrown Court," she said. "And we come with word from the stars."
Eira met her on the palace steps, flanked by Naima and her guard.
Lysathe bowed.
But it wasn't low enough to mean respect.
"You carry the Flame," the envoy said, looking into Eira like she was reading a book written in blood.
"I am the Flame," Eira replied, heat rising in her palms. "Speak your message."
The woman straightened.
"The stars tremble, Queen of Ash. A power has stirred from the Deep. One your fire cannot burn. One your crown cannot tame."
"And what power is that?"
Lysathe's lips curled.
"The Hollow One."
---
Kael's Doubt
He watched from the edge of the crowd, hidden beneath his old scout's cloak, one hand resting on the hilt of a blade he hadn't drawn in weeks.
He didn't like the way Lysathe looked at Eira.
As if she were already a story told in past tense.
Naima appeared at his side.
"You should be up there."
"She's doing fine," he muttered.
"She's doing bravely. But she misses you."
He didn't answer.
"Kael," Naima said gently, "you survived a war. You don't need to keep punishing yourself for still being alive."
He finally looked at her.
"I'm not scared of dying. I'm scared of not being enough."
Naima touched his shoulder.
"Then become more. But with her."
---
A Warning in the Garden
That night, Eira sat in her mother's garden again, flames gently blooming from her fingertips into the soil.
Lysathe appeared beside her—silent as dusk.
"You don't trust me," the envoy said.
"No."
"Good. Trust is often misplaced in times of peace."
Eira looked at her, expression unreadable.
"What do you want?"
Lysathe knelt beside her. Not in deference, but in conspiracy.
"The Hollow One was sealed before flame. Before time. Your magic can't contain it. But your bloodline may unlock it."
Eira's breath hitched.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, Queen of Ash, I was sent to warn you." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "But others are coming to use you."
A pause.
"And some… are coming to kill you."
---
Return to Her Flame
Kael found her just before dawn, still sitting in the garden.
He didn't speak at first.
Just sat beside her, close enough to share breath.
"I don't know how to rule a kingdom," she said softly.
"Neither do I," he replied. "But I know how to protect one."
She smiled faintly. "Even from the gods?"
"Especially from the gods."
He took her hand.
And she leaned against him.
"You're enough," she whispered.
And he believed her.
For the first time.