The parchment remained clutched in Evelyne's hand long after the ink had dried into her memory. The words echoed louder than any battle cry she'd uttered, louder than the Queen's threats, louder than the court's scorn.
"The blood in your veins is older than the throne she sits on."
It wasn't just a warning.
It was a promise.
And a challenge.
Down in the old Ashthorn library, dust swirled like ghosts. Evelyne moved through rows of forgotten volumes, passing her fingers along the spines until one book snagged her touch.
Ashthorn Genealogy: A Revised Record
She pulled it from the shelf and set it on the long oak table. Maren sat across from her, sharpening a blade, and paused when she saw Evelyne's face.
"What are you looking for?"
"The truth."
Evelyne flipped open the book and turned past familiar names her father, her grandfather, noble after noble. Then she stopped on a page sealed in wax.
She broke it.
Inside was a family tree that split off in two directions.
One led to House Ashthorn.
The other marked only by an ancient sigil led to a name she'd never seen before.
Queen Elyra, Flameborne. Exiled. Disavowed. Erased.
Maren leaned in. "That's not just forgotten history."
Evelyne whispered, "That's stolen birthright."
She spent the rest of the night buried in scrolls and hidden records. And slowly, the tale unraveled:
Centuries ago, Queen Elyra had ruled not with politics, but with power. Elemental, dangerous, divine. But the court had feared her. They had called her a witch, branded her bloodline cursed.
They erased her name from the throne's succession.
And they hunted every descendant she had.
Except one.
Ashthorn.
By morning, Evelyne stepped out onto the highest balcony of the manor. The wind pulled at her robe, wild and untamed.
Julian joined her, carrying a fresh missive from the palace. "The Queen's guards are increasing patrols in the city. She's cracking down."
"She's afraid," Evelyne said.
"Of what? You?"
Evelyne smiled faintly.
"No. Of who I came from."
She turned toward him.
"I'm not just here to ruin villains, Julian. I was never reborn to take back what they stole from me."
"I was reborn to take back what they stole from her."
From the flames of injustice, the true heir was rising.
And the Queen's throne was no longer made of gold
It was made of ash.