Isabella's POV
They brought the records by nightfall. Boxes of weathered scrolls and rotting parchment, each marked "Classified by Royal Decree." Some bore bloodstains. Others scorch marks. The last one? Locked in a metal case, sealed with a sigil I didn't recognize. It pulsed faintly under my touch, like a dying heartbeat. I ran my fingers over the symbol, then glanced at the captain of the guard.
"Open it."
He hesitated. "That sigil… it's cursed." "So am I," I said, without flinching.
He drew a short dagger, nicked his palm, and let three drops of blood fall on the lock. It sizzled, then cracked open with a sound like bone breaking.
Inside: one single scroll.
Black ribbon. Crimson wax. No title.
I waited until the room emptied before unsealing it. The paper was dry, but the ink looked fresh shimmering, like it had just been written. And as my eyes moved over the first lines, my heart dropped. The Queen of Ashes was not born. She was made by fire, by grief, and by love so forbidden it ripped the sky apart.
Her name was Isabella.
I stopped breathing.
No...No, it couldn't be.
This was someone else. Some long-lost ancestor. A coincidence. A trick of the archives but I kept reading. Her reign began in blood and ended in betrayal. Her consort wore a crown of shadows. And when the stars turned against them… they chose each other.
My hands trembled.
The words were old. Ancient. And yet… they read like prophecy. No. Like memory.
I read to the end, my chest tightening with every line because I knew how it ended before I reached it. She died with his name on her lips. But death is not the end for a queen made of fire.
The scroll burst into flame.
I gasped, dropping it but the fire didn't burn me. It consumed only the parchment, vanishing in a curl of smoke that whispered:
"It always begins again."
There was a knock. I turned sharply, and Dominic entered his expression unreadable.
"I told you not to dig too deep." "I wasn't digging," I whispered. "I was remembering." His eyes darkened. "You weren't supposed to know." "I was meant to."
He stepped closer, but not enough. Not yet.
"If you remember what she was," he said, voice low, "then you must know what comes next." "I do," I breathed. "And I don't care."
Silence hung between us like the tension before a storm.
"I won't lose you again," he said. My heart thudded. "Then don't."