Book One: Rise of the Demonborn
*Chapter 23: Ember in the Throne Room
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Her name was *Lira Ashveil*.
At fifteen, she was the youngest of the twenty heroes—and the only wielder of *Living Flame*, an ancient fire not born of magic, but *will*.
And she was walking, alone, into *Vorth Karran*.
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"Are you sure?" King Alric had asked. "You've *seen* what he does."
Lira nodded. Her red cloak barely reached her knees. She wore no armor—only a dagger, a satchel, and a small flame that danced between her fingers.
"If he listens to anyone," she said, "it won't be a king."
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Kael allowed her to enter.
No illusions. No traps. No undead barring her path.
The black gates opened *for her*.
Vorth Karran's grand hall was silent as she walked. Statues of the fallen lined the corridor. The torches hummed with soulfire.
And at the far end sat *Kael*.
Still. Young. Wings folded behind him.
A *boy* in appearance—but not in presence.
His pale hand rested on the arm of his throne.
"You may speak," he said flatly.
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Lira stepped forward. Her fire dimmed.
"My name is Lira. I've come to speak—not to fight."
Kael didn't blink.
"Then speak."
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She took a breath.
"You hate humans. I understand why. What they did to you—how they treated you—"
Kael's voice cut in.
"You *do not* understand."
The hall dimmed slightly.
"I was a child who bled. A child who screamed. They called me cursed. They broke my bones to 'train' their other sons."
He stood.
"And then, when I fled into the forest, they *celebrated.*"
Lira didn't step back.
"I know they were wrong," she said. "But we're not all like that. Not *everyone* deserves your wrath."
Kael tilted his head.
"You burn brightly for someone so small."
"I'm not here to shine," she said. "I'm here to ask: What do you want?"
That made him pause.
His wings shifted.
"I want the world to understand what it *is*," he said. "Not righteous. Not chosen. Just… *fragile*. And unworthy of its thrones."
She clenched her fists.
"Then destroy the kings. Burn the tyrants. But what about the innocent?"
Kael's gaze hardened.
"There are no innocents. Only ignorance."
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A silence stretched.
Then Lira reached into her satchel.
She held out a single *black flower*—wilted, cursed.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Forest of Lost Suns," he murmured. "They only grow where great sorrow remains."
She dropped it at his feet.
"That's from the village *you spared.* The one where the child gave you water."
Kael's wings froze.
Lira stepped closer.
"If you were *only* vengeance… that village would've burned. But it didn't."
She looked up at him.
"There's still a soul in you."
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For the first time, Kael didn't reply.
He sat back down.
And said only:
"You may leave. Unharmed."
"You'll think about it?"
Kael looked away.
"I already have."
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As Lira left the castle, a strange sound echoed behind her.
A low pulse—almost like a *heartbeat*.
And above the gates of Theronox, a new carving was etched:
*"Judgment waits. But it remembers kindness."*
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