CHAPTER FIVE
The wind in Elarion shifted that night.
Not the kind that stirred banners or whispered through ivy-covered towers—but something older. A current that moved through stone and shadow, humming through runes etched in forgotten tongues. A wind that carried the scent of ash and blood.
Raven woke up gasping.
She sat upright in the bed of the west wing, drenched in sweat, her heartbeat echoing like war drums in her chest. The cracked mirror loomed in the dark, its surface dull once more—but something in her gut screamed that it had shown her more than a vision.
It had shown her a memory.
Not hers.
Not entirely.
Hers and… someone else's.
The air smelled faintly of smoke. Not from the hearth.
From somewhere else.
———
Down a forgotten corridor in the lowest wing of the palace, beyond doors sealed in spellfire and warded with blood, a shadow stirred.
The guards stationed nearby never saw the intruder.
Their hearts stopped—silently, painlessly—before they even felt the cold.
A figure stepped from the shadow. Cloaked in black, face obscured by a steel mask scorched down the center. A whisper of flame flickered in one gloved palm, dark as coal and silent as a grave.
He moved like smoke. Swift. Relentless.
He left no trail. Only silence.
His name, to the few who still dared speak it, was Caleb Vale.
But the palace of Elarion knew him by another name:
The Scorched Prince.
In her chamber, Raven stared at the mirror.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out again—slowly, as if afraid of waking something. This time, her reflection remained her own. But something shimmered just beneath the surface.
She heard a whisper.
It wasn't words.
It was a feeling. A name she didn't recognize and yet…
"Kai…"
She blinked. Had she said it aloud?
The door to her chamber opened.
Sarah Val entered, eyes sharp beneath her fire-colored crown of braids. "You felt him."
Raven turned. "Who?"
"The other flame," Sarah said. "The other heir."
Raven's breath caught. "I don't have a brother."
"You did."
———
The palace of Elarion had not spoken of Caleb in two decades.
Not since the night the cradle of fire split and the line of succession was hidden from all but the highest Lorekeepers. Not since the Rift swallowed a child born of ash, and silence fell over the twin prophecy.
But silence, like flame, doesn't last forever.
And tonight… the wind whispered his return.
Meanwhile…
Deep beneath the palace, in a chamber locked since the founding of Elarion, Alexander Draven stood alone.
He faced an obsidian door chained with silver runes. The air was thick with old magic—binding spells and blood-oaths buried beneath stone. His fingers hovered over the seal.
Then he heard it.
The sound of laughter. Faint. Childlike. A memory echoing from beyond the door.
Two voices—intertwined.
A boy and a girl.
"Promise you'll never forget me."
"I promise. Cross-my-heart-forever."
Alexander stepped back, shaken. The voices faded.
The chain shimmered. Cracks began to creep across the seal.
Someone was breaking the bindings… from the inside.
———
Raven stood in the Lorekeeper's chamber, where Sarah Val unrolled a scroll sealed in royal wax.
"This is your bloodline," Sarah said. "Half of it."
Raven's fingers brushed the edge of the parchment. It unfurled with a hum.
The ink danced.
A family tree bloomed before her, drawn in firelight.
Her name: Raven Quinn
Below it, a branch: Caleb Vale
Twins. Heirs. Born under a shattered moon.
"Why don't I remember him?" Raven whispered.
"Because your mother made a sacrifice to the Mirror Gate," Sarah said. "To protect you. She split your souls. Gave you different fates."
"But he's alive."
"Yes," Sarah said, voice tight. "And he's here."
Raven's legs wobbled. "He's… in the palace?"
"No. He's beneath it."
In the heart of the underground ruins of Elarion, the Scorched Prince stood before an altar long abandoned.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a shard of bone-carved glass—the twin of the mirror Raven had seen.
As he held it to the altar, a spiral of cold flame burst around him.
The walls shook.
The palace above felt it.
Alexander raced from the sealed chamber.
Raven dropped the scroll.
Sarah Val's lips moved in prayer.
And in the mirror upstairs… the final fracture split.
Raven fell to her knees.
Her hands were on fire.
Not burning—awakening.
And in her mind, a voice whispered:
"He's coming for the flame.
But the crown… will choose."