Silence ruled the vault beneath the palace.
The ancient shadow spirit was gone. The cursed king, Edric, reduced to ash. Yet, no one cheered.
Kael held Arien close, her breath shallow, her body glowing faintly with the goddess's flame. The others gathered—bloodied, stunned, changed.
Valrik knelt beside the altar, running a hand across the scorched stone. "He was right about one thing," he muttered. "Power corrupts faster when you think you're saving the world."
Maev looked at Arien. "And what about you? Are you saved?"
The sun rose over Virelyn, casting golden light on a city scarred by battle but not broken.
News of the king's fall spread like wildfire. Crowds emerged cautiously, some bearing flowers, others torches. Hope and fear walked side by side.
Arien stood on the steps of the ruined palace, wrapped in a cloak Kael had given her. Her strength hadn't fully returned, but her voice had.
"The king is dead," she said to the people. "But the chains he placed upon you—on us—will take time to break."
Silence.
Then, from the crowd, a voice shouted, "Queen!"
Another: "The Flame Queen!"
She raised a hand. "No. Not queen. I did not fight to take a throne. I fought to free it."
She turned to Kael. "And if this land must choose a guide—it should be one who remembers both fire and blood."
Kael blinked. "Arien…"
"You saw the kingdom from within. You know its flaws. And you still chose to fight."
Kael hesitated. Then bowed.
"I serve crown and flame," he said.
The people echoed him.
And in that moment, a new flame was born.
That night, the survivors held vigil in the palace square. Candles lit the streets. The old banners were torn down. New ones rose: a phoenix, unbound, flying free.
Valrik approached Arien near the pyres.
"You could've ruled."
She smiled. "Ruling is easy. Healing isn't."
He raised a brow. "And what will you do now, Flamebearer?"
Arien looked to the stars.
"Find the pieces the king broke. Restore what I can. And when I'm no longer needed… disappear."
But far beyond the kingdom's edge, in the ruins of a forgotten temple, a sliver of shadow twitched.
The spirit had been wounded.
Not destroyed.
And it whispered to the dark: "She carries the flame. But I am eternal."