Midnight — Beneath the Old Bell Tower
Aaron stood waiting, his cloak drawn tight around him, his back resting against the cold, ancient stone. The envelope had led him here — to the base of a forgotten bell tower, hidden behind the Council's library. No guards patrolled the area, no glowing glyphs marked the place. Only silence… and shadows.
Then, she appeared.
The councilwoman from before, now stripped of her robes and rank, stepped forward. She wore simple traveling black, her face fully revealed under the moonlight.
"I suppose I should begin by telling you my name," she said quietly.
"I am Mirell Vex. Eldemar blood. But that is not what matters."
Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Then what does?"
She extended an old scroll toward him.
"Your mother's name was not simply Elira. It was Elira Vex. She was my sister."
Aaron froze, the weight of her words settling deep.
---
The Forgotten Flame
"They erased her after the Skyborn purge," Mirell whispered. "She refused to surrender you. They offered her silence in exchange for your name."
"She chose flame instead."
Aaron carefully unfolded the scroll. Though faded, the ink remained clear:
"If he survives, let him remember fire not as power, but as voice."
"Let him remember what they silence."
His hand trembled.
"Why tell me this now?" he asked.
Mirell's voice grew sharper.
"Because someone inside the palace plans to silence the Council. Tonight."
---
Meanwhile — In the Barracks of the Royal Guard
A man clad in silver-black armor addressed his troops.
Not a general.
A captain. Known for loyalty.
But his eyes were wrong — too calm, too cold.
"The Council no longer serves the Crown," he declared. "It serves fire. That must end."
Behind him, five elite guards nodded silently. One slid a dagger into his sleeve — its blade etched with the mark of The Pale Thorn.
---
Two Fires Converge
Aaron looked up at Mirell.
"Why warn me?"
"Because you are not merely her son. You are the last fire that remembers why this kingdom was built."
"If the Council falls now… truth will fall with it."
Aaron's flame flickered faintly in his palm.
"Then we do not protect them," he said firmly. "We expose them. All of them."
---
Far above, in a hidden tower, Lucien gazed down upon the palace.
He whispered into the drifting ash:
"Let the child burn what we could not."
The ash scattered on the night wind.
And beneath the throne, the war began.