The palace of Pyranthos had never looked more radiant. Crimson banners embroidered with golden firebirds fluttered from the highest towers, their embroidered feathers seeming to shimmer under the sunlight. Trumpets blared from balconies as nobles and emissaries from the elemental dynasties filled the coliseum carved into the side of the Flamehill—a volcanic peak turned sacred arena. The Elemental Trials had begun.
Princess Mira stood at the center of the arena, the obsidian ground warm beneath her ceremonial boots. Her fire-red hair was coiled in braided loops like burning crowns, and a long train of flame-kissed silk trailed behind her. Her eyes, bright as molten gold, scanned the audience. Each royal house had sent its champions: Earth, Water, Air, Ice, and even Thunder—an ancient line thought long extinct. But Mira, daughter of Pyranthos, was to be the last to enter the ring. She was the Fifth Flame, the heir to the Fire Dynasty.
"No pressure," murmured Serene, her closest friend and confidante, standing just behind the archway.
Mira exhaled slowly. "It's just centuries of legacy resting on my shoulders. What could go wrong?"
From the platform above, the High Matriarch, Queen Selene Pyranthos, raised her hand. Her voice echoed through the volcanic amphitheater, magnified by ancient enchantments.
"Let the Elemental Trials begin. May the bloodlines prove their worth and alliances be forged anew."
As Mira stepped forward, cheers erupted—but so did whispers. Seated just opposite the royal box was the Water Prince, Jaxon Thalor, his expression unreadable. He wore the sea-blue sigil of Thalor's crest, waves crashing beneath a crescent moon. His gaze flicked to Mira and lingered. Long enough to make her pulse quicken. But then he turned, speaking to the woman beside him.
A woman Mira didn't recognize. Stunning, poised—and leaning in far too closely.
Rian of House Erdain, heir of the Earth bloodline, appeared at Mira's side in the arena. "Did you see him looking at you just now?"
"Which one? The prince or the parasite?" Mira muttered.
Rian chuckled. "You really should stop calling your competitors insects. It's unbecoming of a future Fire Queen."
"Then perhaps I should stop playing nice."
The gong sounded.
The trial had begun.
---
The first challenge was a test of elemental precision: manipulating raw fire energy into controlled constructs. Mira moved with a dancer's grace, summoning flickering shapes—phoenixes, burning spears, glowing sigils—that hung mid-air, pulsing with power.
Rian sculpted a shield of living stone, rugged and protective. From the air balcony, Zephyrion, heir to the Wind Clan, whirled a tornado into a calligraphic spiral, smug as ever. Each suitor flexed their powers not just to impress the judges, but Mira herself.
And Jaxon? He hadn't moved.
He stood arms folded, observing, his element unnervingly still.
It was only when Mira summoned her final piece—a flaming crown suspended in air—that Jaxon lifted his hand. A spiral of water wove through the sky, weaving around her flame with such delicate intricacy that it did not extinguish the fire, but danced with it. A symbol of balance.
The crowd gasped. Mira's breath caught.
The symbol hovered—fire and water coiled like lovers.
Then it vanished.
---
Later, in the torch-lit corridors of the palace, Mira pressed her back to the cool stone wall, heart racing. Footsteps approached.
"You should've let me win the trial," Rian said, leaning beside her.
"You were magnificent."
"Flattery? You must need something."
She grinned. "Just your help. There's a rumor one of the Thunder delegates brought something... dangerous. I want you to snoop."
"Always using me as your personal rock golem. One day I'll demand payment."
She was about to respond when a second figure appeared—Jaxon.
Rian rolled his eyes. "And the tide rolls in."
Jaxon ignored him. "Mira. A word. Alone."
She hesitated.
Rian looked between them. "Try not to drown her."
When he left, Mira folded her arms. "What do you want?"
"You're avoiding me."
"I've been busy. Entertaining potential husbands. Burning things. Trying not to be murdered."
He stepped closer. "You're angry."
"I'm confused. One minute you're gone for years, the next you're here staring at me like I belong to you—then you're entertaining mystery women."
He sighed. "Asha's not—"
"Don't say she's just a friend. I invented that excuse."
His voice dropped. "I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I tried."
"Well, that's too bad, Jaxon. Because this princess has a kingdom to protect, and your little water tricks don't wash away the past."
But even as she said it, her flames dimmed.
---
That night, a scream shattered the silence.
A guard had been found charred in the western wing—burned from within, not without. No fire magic left marks like that.
Queen Selene summoned her war council.
"Someone is attempting to sabotage the trials," she said coldly. "And I suspect it isn't a foreign power. This reeks of internal betrayal."
Eyes turned to the lesser lords.
But Mira's thoughts turned elsewhere. A name whispered by her ancestors. A traitor once exiled from Pyranthos—a fire wielder who had allied with shadows. Her uncle.
She left the chamber unnoticed, slipping into the forbidden wing.
---
There, beneath the Hall of Cinders, she found the sealed crypt. And someone already waiting.
"You're not supposed to be here," said a voice.
Asha.
"Neither are you," Mira said, summoning a flicker of flame.
"Don't. You don't understand what you're waking."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Then explain. Before I turn you into a cinder doll."
Asha's eyes glowed—not with fear, but with power. "Because I'm not here for Jaxon. I'm here for you. You're the Fifth Flame, Mira. But you were never meant to rule."
The crypt door groaned open behind them.
Inside, runes began to glow.
Mira stepped forward, fire in hand.
And the ancient prophecy carved into the wall lit up:
"When the Fifth Flame binds with the Ocean's Crown, the world will burn and be reborn. But only one shall rise. The rest must fall."
Behind her, Asha vanished.
Leaving Mira alone with the truth.