"You… asked him?"
The words trembled from Queen Aelira's lips like a breaking spell. The torches flickered in their sconces, and thunder rumbled far beyond the stained glass.
Only six figures occupied the vast hall....the Stormlord Valerian upon his throne, his mother Aelira, his sister Levina, her husband Ser Corven, the High Seer Serath Veyne, and the young prince Vaelric standing near the doorway where he had spoken.
"Yes, Grandmother," Vaelric said quietly, though his voice carried through the room. "I did. In Caelmont."
Aelira's expression hardened with disbelief. Her hands trembled slightly, clutching the folds of her gown. "You… asked your father to marry that woman? The cursed Flameborne?"
Vaelric nodded once, calm in the face of her fury. "I did."
"Why?" she demanded, her tone sharp and trembling. "Why would you make such a request? You, who know the tales better than anyone here! You, who heard the Seers speak of the curse that befell her line! What madness drove you to this?"
Vaelric lowered his gaze briefly, as though weighing his words. "Because…" He sighed, his small shoulders squaring under the weight of what he was about to say. "Because I'm connected to her."
The words fell into the silence like a bolt of lightning.
Even Valerian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across his face. "Connected?" he repeated slowly. "What do you mean by that, Vaelric?"
He rose from the Storm Throne, his cloak whispering against the marble. The air between father and son seemed to tighten, heavy with memory.
Valerian's thoughts spun backward....to the day months ago when guilt had driven him to make in the name of Vireon. He had missed his son's birthday, and in penance, he had sworn by the storm god's name that he would grant Vaelric one wish.....whatever it might be, whenever it might be asked.
And in Caelmont, his son had invoked that oath.
"You swore in Vireon's name, Father. Now fulfill it."
Vaelric had asked for one thing....for his father to marry Lady Aurelia Flameborne, the cursed daughter of Ashmere's house.
At the time, Valerian had demanded to know why. Why her? But his son had only said, "Give me time, Father. I'll bring you proof."
And now, here he stood, claiming they were bound by something neither mortal nor ordinary.
The dowager queen's voice sliced through the tension. "Connected?" she echoed, her tone trembling with both disbelief and dread. "How could a boy of your blood...of our blood...be connected to a creature cursed by Ishara herself?"
Vaelric looked up at her, unflinching. "I can't tell you yet," he said softly. "Not now. But if you doubt me, ask the Seer. He knows."
All eyes turned toward Serath Veyne.
The old Seer stepped forward, his beige robes brushing the marble. His clouded eyes caught the faint glint of lightning through the window.
"It is true," he said, bowing his head in reverence. "The young prince speaks no falsehood. I have seen the mark upon his spirit...it binds him to the Flameborne woman."
Valerian's brow furrowed. "You knew of this and said nothing?"
Serath inclined his head. "I suspected, my king. But such bonds cannot be spoken of lightly. I believe this is why you called for me tonight....to make sense of what has already begun to unfold."
Levina, standing beside her husband, frowned in confusion. "Then tell us, Seer," she said softly. "How are they connected? What does this bond mean?"
Serath drew a deep breath. The air around him seemed to shift as though even the storm listened.
"Before the Stormlord left Valkoron for Caelmont, I beheld a vision," he said. "The winds carried it to me in my sleep. I saw a wheel turning within a storm, and the king standing before it.
I heard the voice of the gods whisper, 'He will not return as he left. He will return changed....and his son shall stand at the center of it.'"
He paused, his voice low and heavy. "At the time, I did not understand. But now, as the threads unravel, I see the shape of the prophecy. The change concerns the Lady Aurelia. Her fate and the prince's are bound....woven together by the hands of gods and mortals alike."
Queen Aelira's lips parted, her face pale beneath the torchlight. "You dare speak such nonsense before the Storm Throne? A cursed witch bound to my grandson? You mean to tell us that the gods have tied Valkoron's heir to her?"
"The gods rarely concern themselves with mortal comfort," Serath said calmly. "They bind who they must to fulfill their design."
Valerian's voice was cold. "And what design is that, Seer?"
"The salvation of flame," Serath answered quietly. "And the storm's reckoning."
A shudder passed through the room.
Levina took a cautious step forward. "You said the Lady's curse is part of this. What does her curse have to do with Vaelric?"
The Seer turned his blind eyes toward her. "Because I have seen a second vision. Before your return, the gods spoke again. They said, 'The key to the curse lies not in the ashes but in the bond. Lift the shadow from the Flameborne, and the truth will rise.'"
Aelira's breath caught, and she shook her head furiously. "Lift the curse? You speak as though it were a mere spell, a child's trick! That curse was born of Ishara's fury.
The heavens themselves sealed her fate! Even Azarion Flameborne scoured half the realm for a cure and failed!"
Her voice rose with despair. "How in Vireon's name do you expect us to undo what the gods decreed?"
Serath's expression did not waver. "I asked the same, my queen. And they answered me."
He turned once more, his gaze falling upon the prince. "They said, 'The answer lies in the child of the storm. He knows the path. He will open what has been sealed.'"
A thick silence followed. The only sound was the storm beyond the windows, the low growl of thunder rolling across the valley.
Valerian's eyes darkened as he stared at his son. "Vaelric," he said quietly, "what does he mean?"
Vaelric didn't answer at once. He looked down at his hands, small and trembling, then back up at his father.
"I can't tell you yet," he whispered, "not fully. But I feel it. Every time I dream, I see her face....Lady Aurelia's. I see her standing in the fire, and behind her, the storm. It's like she's calling to me."
Aelira took a step back, her hand flying to her chest. "This is madness," she murmured. "The boy is bewitched."
"No," Vaelric said, his voice firm this time. "She's not the curse. She's the key."