The sigil on the scroll burned in Seris's vision long after the parchment had been tucked away in her satchel.
A crown—split and broken. Dripping molten embers. An ancient symbol, yes, but not one she had seen in any of the Ember Codexes or Royal Histories. It was older. Rawer. A remnant of fire unclaimed by any throne.
And it was calling to her.
---
The next morning, the palace was eerily quiet. Whispers followed Seris down the corridor as servants and nobles alike stepped aside. She had been the last one seen in the Ember Vault before the crown vanished. And though no one dared say it aloud, their eyes accused her of something far worse than incompetence.
Kaelen met her at the war chamber's entrance, his expression tight. "The Queen's summoned the Flame Seers."
Seris stiffened. "They haven't been seen in over two generations."
"Exactly. Which means she's scared."
They entered the chamber together. Queen Alaryss stood before a half-circle of stone-browed women clad in red-and-obsidian robes. Their eyes were clouded white—sightless, yet seeing more than anyone else in the room.
The oldest seer stepped forward. Her voice was as brittle as old parchment.
> "You have touched the twin flame. The stolen fire. The Flame That Shouldn't Be."
Seris's mouth went dry. "What does that mean?"
The seer tilted her head. "Long ago, before the crowns were forged, fire did not serve mortals. It judged them. There was a flame that lived beneath the world. It could not be tamed, only bargained with. The first kings tried to wield it. They failed. They burned."
Alaryss's voice was tight. "And now it returns."
Another seer spoke, this one younger, her voice like flickering smoke. "Because someone has called it. Someone who bears its mark."
Seris lifted the scroll from her satchel and held it up. "This?"
All the seers hissed as one. The eldest stepped back. "Bury that thing. Better yet—burn it, if you can."
"It was left in the vault," Seris said. "Whoever took the crown wanted me to find it."
"They wanted to awaken what should remain buried," said the youngest. "That sigil marks the bearer as a candidate. Not for a crown, but for a sacrifice."
A cold shiver raced down Seris's spine. "You think she's going to sacrifice me?"
"No," the elder seer whispered. "She is you. The part of you the flame wishes to claim. The part that does not belong in this world."
Kaelen moved protectively closer. "Then we sever that part. We find her and destroy her."
But the seers only shook their heads.
"She cannot be slain like a person," the eldest intoned. "She is not flesh. She is the echo of your flame twisted by fate. She will burn across time until your soul chooses—dominion or destruction."
Seris clenched her fists. "There must be another way."
"There is," the youngest whispered. "You must walk the path of the Flame That Shouldn't Be. You must go where it sleeps."
Kaelen's brow furrowed. "Where?"
---
That night, beneath the mountain's roots, the Ember Vault remained sealed under layers of reinforced wards.
But Seris and Kaelen did not go there.
Instead, guided by the youngest seer's map—a page inked with shifting, molten glyphs—they traveled deep into the Scorched Veil, the ashlands between Solvyris and the dead kingdom of Vareth.
No living fire burned there.
Only memory.
Volcanic peaks rose in the distance, skeletons of once-living mountains. The ground trembled beneath their boots, and the air was thick with soot and whispers.
"Why here?" Seris asked, adjusting her cloak.
Kaelen scanned the horizon. "Because the fire that predates crowns wasn't born in a throne room. It was born in a wound. This land bled flame long before kings drew borders."
They climbed for hours, until at last they reached a collapsed chasm ringed in blackened stone. Strange symbols carved themselves anew on the rocks as Seris approached—glowing dimly in response to her Emberlight.
Kaelen reached for her hand. "This place isn't just old. It's alive."
Then they heard it.
A voice.
Not spoken—but felt.
A whisper that crawled into Seris's mind like a memory she had forgotten:
> "You are mine. You always were."
Her breath caught. The fire within her chest flared in answer.
The earth cracked beneath them—and the chasm bloomed wide.
Flame—not red, but blue-gold and ancient—poured upward in a spiral, wrapping around her like silk and storm. She screamed, not in pain, but in awakening.
Kaelen tried to pull her back—but it was too late.
Seris stood on the edge, hair alight, eyes glowing like coals.
And she remembered.
She had been here before.
In another life.
Wearing another crown.
And at the center of it all… was her.
The other Seris.
Waiting.