Power ripples across the continent like a second dawn.
Mages go mad.
Kings dream of fire.
And beneath a forgotten mountain, a creature with black wings opens his eyes for the first time in a thousand years.
I burn without burning.
Walk without shadow.
When I speak, the air bends.
Even the gods grow silent.
"She is no longer tethered to mortal law," the Seer whispers to Thorne, her hollow eyes trembling.
"Not queen. Not villain. Not human."
"Then what is she?"
"She is the Pale Flame," the Seer breathes. "And she is remembering why she was buried."
But I still feel it.
The weight of one name.
One memory that refuses to die.
Cael.
He was another throne. Another cataclysm.
Once, he ruled storm and ruin. Once, he kissed me while lightning burned the world around us.
And once… he killed me.
To stop me from becoming this.
"He's awake," I say, stepping into the bone-temple at dusk.
"He's coming."
Ashen looks up. "Cael?"
"Yes."
"Will he fight you again?"
I look out toward the blood red horizon.
"No. First, he'll love me again."
"Then he'll try to burn me alive."
And far, far away on a cliff above a dying sea Cael watches the fire in the sky.
His wings spread. His smile is cruel and soft.
"She's awake."
"Finally."
"I missed her."
And in his hand, he carries the blade that once ended her life.