The dawn that broke over Pyranthos was not golden, but ash-gray. Smoke still clung to the horizon, wafting from the shattered eastern tower. A strange silence settled over the palace grounds—not of peace, but of tension, like the hush before a second storm.
Mira stood by the window of her royal chamber, draped in a soft crimson robe embroidered with the sigil of the Phoenix. Her eyes, usually molten and alight with command, were now dimmed with sleeplessness. Beneath them, dark crescents marked the burden of the night before.
Behind her, Lady Elira, her fire-tongued handmaiden and closest friend, crossed her arms. "You should have scorched his face, Mira. That arrogant wind prince dared to speak against your House."
Mira exhaled slowly. "He was provoked. But yes, I should have."
"And the sabotage? The guards are whispering of shadowed figures fleeing the tower. They think it's an inside job."
Mira turned. "It is an inside job. Only a royal bloodline could've bypassed the enchantments. That narrows our suspect pool."
Lady Elira raised a brow. "Then we have traitors in our alliance. The Elemental Accord is a farce."
Just then, a knock. A hesitant one.
In walked Prince Caelum of the House of Sky, shirt wrinkled, one arm in a sling. His usual smug air was replaced by one of weariness—and something Mira hadn't expected.
Guilt.
"Mira," he said, bowing slightly. "I... I owe you an apology."
She stiffened. "You mean for accusing my people during the ball? Or for letting a saboteur slip through your guard's ranks?"
He winced. "Both. And more. I was arrogant."
Lady Elira scoffed, whispering, "Understatement of the year."
Caelum ignored her. "I want to help. The Sky House will fund repairs. And I offer our seers to investigate magical tampering."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
He hesitated. Then: "Because I almost died. And when the tower fell, your flames saved more than just your own people. You shielded everyone."
Mira blinked. Memories flooded her—the frantic explosion, her instinctive surge of flame becoming a dome of protection, scorching her palms in the process.
She sighed. "Fine. Help us. But tread carefully, Caelum. One misstep, and the next fire won't be so forgiving."
He nodded, departing.
Later, in the Grand Hall, a meeting was called. Lords and heirs from all elemental houses gathered around the obsidian table, lit only by floating flame-orbs. Mira presided at the head, her tiara gleaming like embers.
"The alliance has been attacked," she began. "And only one of us could have orchestrated it."
Murmurs. Accusations. Defensiveness.
Lord Vireon of Earth banged his staff. "We demand full magical scans of all house members present."
"And violate privacy?" snapped Lady Aravelle of Ice.
Mira cut through them. "Enough. We will investigate. Quietly. But know this: Pyranthos will not fall."
Meanwhile, deep in the dungeons, a secret prisoner stirred—caught escaping near the tower. Cloaked in shadow, his elemental signature unreadable.
And in her dreams that night, Mira saw fire chained in obsidian, a whisper echoing:
"The heir is not safe. Not from your blood... nor theirs."