## CHAPTER 62: _"The Fire That Forgets No One"_
The world outside the Veil had shifted.
When Arien stepped back into Elira, bearing the flames of a thousand lost memories, the air carried not just ash—but silence. Not the absence of sound, but a pregnant stillness, as though the world itself held its breath.
They were too late.
The capital had fallen.
---
**The Ruins of Aetherhelm**
Arien, Lysia, Elithra, and Sairen stood before the smoking remains of the throne city. The once-gleaming spires of Aetherhelm, which once reached into the clouds like proud declarations of a kingdom's might, now lay cracked and buried in the earth. Blood marked the stones. The banners of Elira had been torn down—replaced by sigils none of them recognized.
"What… what is this?" Lysia whispered, her voice a feather in a hurricane.
Sairen narrowed her eyes. "The Flame Cult. They've moved faster than I feared."
Arien's jaw clenched. His heart beat with the fury of the Third Flame.
"They think the kingdom belongs to them now. But they've mistaken a fire that cleanses for one that devours."
---
**The Cult of the Eternal Ember**
They moved in silence through the lower city, aided by rebels who still remembered the old crown. From them, they learned of the Flame Cult—a group that believed Arien's transformation had fulfilled a divine prophecy.
They believed he was no longer human.
They believed he should not rule… but burn the world and remake it in fire.
Worse, they believed Lysia was the last chain holding back the inferno.
And they were hunting her.
---
**The Temple Siege**
They took refuge in the abandoned Temple of the First Light. As dawn broke through shattered stained-glass, the cultists came.
Arien fought with the flame, his hands glowing gold-red, his steps echoing power. Lysia wielded her twilight magic, casting illusions that wept with sorrow. Elithra bent shadow, and Sairen danced with steel.
The battle was not one of numbers—but belief.
"You're not our savior!" the High Flamebearer shouted. "You're our undoing!"
"I never asked to be your god," Arien growled, fire lashing from his hands. "I just wanted to be free."
And with a roar that cracked the sky, he broke their line.
---
**The Heart of the Flame**
After the battle, Lysia collapsed.
The cut she had made in the Veil to break their bond had not healed. Her soul trembled. Her body flickered in and out of reality.
"She's unraveling," Elithra whispered. "The Veil still pulls her. The curse… it was never fully severed."
Arien knelt beside her.
"I carried the fire," he said. "Let me carry the curse too."
But Lysia, eyes flickering like fading stars, smiled.
"No. You carry hope. Let me carry what's left of our past."
---
**Return of the Old King**
Just as the dust began to settle, a new army arrived at the horizon.
But it wasn't an enemy.
It was **King Oren**—Arien's long-thought-dead father, exiled for refusing to wage the original curse wars. He returned, leading the Forgotten Legion, with eyes that burned not with power, but clarity.
"You've become more than I ever was," Oren said. "But a king alone cannot rebuild. Let us rebuild the crown together."
---
**The Choice**
By the chapter's end, Arien must choose:
- Embrace the role of monarch, forge peace, and risk losing Lysia forever.
- Or forsake the throne, descend into the heart of the flame, and uncover the origin of the gods themselves.
The chapter ends with Arien holding Lysia's hand, her breath shallow.
He whispers:
> "You were never a curse. You were the fire that made me human."