The stronghold burned.
Flame licked at the obsidian towers like hungry tongues, illuminating the sky in molten gold and blood-red light. Alarm bells clanged, distorted and warbled—enchanted metal reacting to soulfire it hadn't encountered in centuries.
Adrien raced through the storm of ash and stone, leaping over a fallen parapet as a wave of corrupted flame burst from the eastern wing of the Sanctum. Ahead, the tower where the scream had come from now split down the middle—cleaved by raw dragonfire.
The Gem against his chest pulsed wildly now. Not in warning.
In recognition.
"She's here," he whispered.
Kaelen's voice cut through from a nearby flicker of smoke. "You think? What gave it away, the tower melting or the sky bleeding?"
Adrien didn't answer—he was already running again, past broken glyphs and dying Hand soldiers scrambling for cover. One beastkin, half-shifted, lunged from the shadows—but Adrien didn't flinch.
He raised one hand, and golden flame surged in a perfect arc, not to kill—but to unbind.
The creature crumpled, freed from its compulsions.
Kaelen whistled. "You're getting good at that."
"Not good enough yet," Adrien said. "She's still chained."
Above, Elira moved like vengeance given form.
Her chains, now shattered, swirled around her wrists like glowing brands. Her soulflame—unstable, untrained, furious—radiated in wild pulses. Fire lashed out with every step, incinerating sigils, guards, and shadows alike.
But deep in her eyes was confusion. The voice in her chest, the one whispering he's here, was at war with the years of torment carved into her bones.
"Adrien…" she murmured again, clutching her head. "Is that real?"
And then—
"Elira!"
She turned.
At the base of the staircase, emerging from a storm of cinders and light, stood a boy with familiar eyes and a Gem burning like a second heart.
She froze.
He looked older than she remembered. More scarred. More certain. But the Flame didn't lie.
She knew him.
Her knees buckled, but she didn't fall. Her flame surged instinctively—and Adrien didn't block it. He embraced it.
Golden fire met silver-white.
Brother met sister.
And for the first time since the Fall of Draconis, two heirs stood side by side.
Whole.
Far away, in a mirrored sanctum wrapped in ice and shadow, Virelith felt the flare through her veins.
Her goblet shattered in her hand.
"They found each other," she said.
The warlock kneeling before her swallowed hard. "Shall I activate the Shadowsworn? They can still intercept the Thorne convoy before—"
"No," Virelith hissed. "Too late for that."
She turned to the mirror, where flames now danced unnaturally across the glass.
"Aurenis's line was broken once," she whispered. "This time, we don't break them."
Her smile returned.
"We turn them."
Back at the Sanctum, Adrien and Elira stood in the wreckage, breathing heavily. Around them, the structure groaned—crumbling, dying.
Elira looked at him, voice hoarse. "I almost didn't believe it was real. I thought… they told me you abandoned me."
Adrien shook his head. "I didn't know. I didn't remember. Not until now."
Elira stepped forward, and her forehead pressed against his, the way their mother used to do before bedtime stories they now only half remembered.
"I didn't forget you," she whispered. "Not even once."
Flame coiled around them, warm and golden, not angry now—but whole.
Then Kaelen phased through a collapsing wall, coughing.
"Hate to interrupt this incredibly moving reunion," he rasped, "but we should definitely leave before the tower finishes collapsing."
Adrien turned to Elira. "Can you fly?"
Elira gave him a slow, crooked grin. "I've been dreaming about flying."
She spread her hands—and her back ignited in wings of living flame.
Adrien grinned. "Then let's go."
They leapt together—two stars falling from fire into darkness.
Somewhere far below, in the ruins left behind, a single fragment of blackened chain pulsed faintly, once, with red.
Not all bindings had been broken.
Not all shadows had fled.
And deep beneath the earth…
…something ancient turned its gaze toward the skies again.
Not a queen.
Not a sorceress.
Not even a dragon.
But the First Flame.
And it had just awakened.