The moment the Heart of Flame released its final pulse beneath Elarion, Lyra dropped to her knees.
The ground trembled beneath her hands—warm, alive, whispering secrets in an ancient tongue that bypassed thought and spoke straight to her bones. She heard screams—old ones, distant echoes of the fall of Elarion. The clash of steel, the roar of dragons, and the weeping of fire.
Lucien's hand was instantly on her shoulder. "Lyra—?"
"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth. "But something's calling. Deeper."
Kael's face darkened. "You hear it too."
She rose, pushing past the scorched rock and smoldering roots, and moved toward a jagged path splitting open beneath the ruined hall. Vulkara huffed above, as if she too sensed something ancient awakening below.
"I have to go," Lyra said. "Whatever's down there… it's waiting for me."
Lucien stepped forward. "Then I'm going with you."
Thalia threw him a smirk. "We all are. Whatever's waiting, it better make room."
POV: Lucien Valmer
The descent into the ancient catacombs beneath Elarion felt like walking through time. The walls were carved with flame glyphs, flickering softly as Lyra passed—like they remembered her blood. The very air thickened the deeper they went, laced with ash and old magic.
Kael lit the path with a soft orb of flame. "This was the royal crypt," he said. "Where the ashes of the Flameborne Kings were laid to rest. It's also where the Flame Vault lies."
Lucien raised a brow. "The what now?"
"Where the Crown of Flame was last seen. Before Velora sealed it and fled."
They came to a colossal stone door marked with the Ashwyn crest—a phoenix wreathed in fire, wings outstretched across the rock.
"It only opens for blood," Kael whispered.
Lyra stepped forward and pressed her palm to the sigil.
The stone rippled. Then, groaned open.
Inside was a sanctum of shadow and light. A circular platform hung suspended over a pit of glowing magma, chained at four corners by molten beams of magic. At the center rested a throne of blackened obsidian.
And upon it, a crown of living fire hovered—untouched, undimmed by centuries.
Lyra stepped forward, eyes wide. "It's real."
Kael fell to his knees. "The Flame Crown."
A voice echoed through the chamber—female, ancient, sorrowful.
Child of fire… born of ash… what do you seek?
"I seek to restore what was broken," Lyra said, stepping onto the platform. "To reclaim our legacy. To burn away the rot Velora left behind."
The voice paused. Then:
Then prove yourself.
Suddenly, the chains shattered.
The platform dropped, and the lava surged.
Lucien cursed, drawing his sword. Thalia screamed. Vulkara let out a furious roar above as magic exploded around them.
Lyra alone stood steady. The flames did not harm her. They bent around her.
She walked across molten rock as if it were solid ground.
She reached for the crown.
And it leapt into her hand.
A blinding flash lit the chamber. When the light faded, Lyra stood—crowned in flame, her eyes glowing with the fire of generations.
The pit calmed. The voice whispered one last time.
The Flame has returned.
They ascended slowly. When Lyra emerged back into the surface light, all of Elarion responded.
The dormant glyphs across towers ignited.
The skies above shifted, as if the city itself had drawn breath.
Thalia dropped to a knee. "Your Majesty."
Lucien stood beside Lyra—not kneeling, but watching with awe.
"You found it," he said. "But did it change you?"
Lyra turned to him, her voice low. "No. It reminded me who I've always been."
She turned toward the horizon, the Ash Crown burning above her brow.
"Now let's burn her empire to the ground."