The ember-crowned figure watched Elira with eyes like molten gold. Every second under that gaze felt like standing too close to the sun.
> "Answer me, Flameborn. What would you burn to reclaim your fire?"
Elira clenched her fists. "Anything. Everything—if it means stopping her."
A cruel, flickering smile touched the woman's lips.
> "Be careful. Many said the same. Mira did."
The words struck like a blade. Elira staggered, shaking her head. "No. She twisted it. She betrayed it."
> "She paid. And she was willing to pay more than you."
Flames surged around the woman, rising high, licking at the shadows above. The heat pressed in on Elira until her breath came in gasps.
> "So again… what will you give?"
Elira's thoughts spun—her life, her freedom, her love. Auren's face flashed before her, steady and unyielding, the way he had always chosen her even against the Crown.
Her chest ached.
She could not lose him. Not him.
> "If I must burn," she whispered, voice breaking, "then let it be me. Not him. Never him."
The crowned figure stilled. The flames lowered, folding back into her like wings.
> "You choose sacrifice. You choose love over power. That is why your flame was chosen—and why it was silenced. To return it, you must bleed willingly. Are you ready?"
Before Elira could answer, the ground beneath her fractured. The obsidian mirror split apart, and darkness surged upward—swallowing her whole.
---
Southwatch.
Auren paced before the dim firelight of the rebel camp, his hands raw from gripping the hilt of his sword. Elira had not awakened. She lay on a cot, pale, still, her body marked by Mira's flames.
"Her fire is gone," one of the healers whispered, trembling. "It will not return."
Auren turned sharply, his voice like steel. "It will. She is Flameborn."
But in his chest, fear clawed deeper with every silent second.
---
Back in the void, Elira's scream tore through the dark.
And the fire finally answered.