When Seris awoke, the world smelled like ash and roses.
Soft petals drifted through the smoky air—red, white, and black, like embers turned to bloom. A light rain fell from a sky still bruised with the remnants of the storm. Every part of her ached, but not from wounds—this pain was older, buried deep. The kind that lingered when magic had taken more than it gave.
Kaelen sat beside her, cloak draped around her shoulders. His gaze flicked toward her the moment her eyes opened.
"You're alive," he said. Not with relief—but awe.
Seris blinked slowly. "The breach…?"
"Gone. Sealed," he said, then added, more softly, "You did it."
She tried to sit up, but Kaelen steadied her. "Easy. You collapsed after the Diadem fused with the rift. You bled magic, Seris. For a moment, I thought…" His voice cracked.
She placed a hand over his. "I'm still here."
The words meant more than she intended—and he seemed to understand.
But before they could say anything else, Arin approached, mud streaking her armor, her eyes storm-bright. "You two might want to get up. We have company."
"Company?" Seris echoed.
Kaelen rose first. "More mirrorspawn?"
"No," Arin said grimly. "Worse."
They followed her down the slope, through the remains of what had once been the edge of the breach—a scorched valley now glittering with glass. At the base of the hill stood a dozen riders in cloaks of woven bronze. Their steeds shimmered like liquid metal.
At their head stood a woman clad in duskfire armor—midnight-black with veins of burning orange.
Seris froze.
"High Commander Neryssa of the Ember Inquisition," Arin muttered under her breath. "Queen Alaryss's blade in the dark."
Neryssa's gaze found Seris instantly.
"Lady Seris of Solvyris," she said, dismounting. "Heir apparent. Mirror-scarred. Flame-walker."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or a threat?"
The commander didn't smile. "That depends on your answer."
"Answer to what?"
"To whether or not you willingly consorted with a skyborn to awaken forbidden relics and endanger the elemental balance."
Kaelen stepped forward, but Neryssa's guards raised their blades.
"I'm not her prisoner," he said coldly.
"Not yet," Neryssa replied. "But the queen has questions. And so do I."
Seris stepped between them. "I just closed a breach in the veil between realms. I risked my life. If your queen wants to accuse me, she can do it face-to-face."
Neryssa studied her for a long moment. "Then you'll come to the capital. Tonight."
Kaelen reached for Seris's arm, his voice low. "It's a trap."
"Maybe," she said. "But we can't run. If I don't face her now, she'll brand me a traitor."
Arin folded her arms. "You won't go alone."
Neryssa raised a brow. "You expect to walk into Emberhall with a skyborn and a rebel windblade and not get executed?"
"I expect to walk in as myself," Seris replied, her voice steel. "And walk out as the one who stopped the end of this realm."
The commander didn't answer—but after a pause, she turned on her heel and mounted. "Then ride fast, Emberborn. Your fate waits on a throne of fire."
---
That night, the roads bled gold.
Emberhall rose ahead—its spires shadowed in smoke, the massive obsidian throne tower aglow with rivers of flame. Seris had not seen her mother's palace since the dream where the Mirror Queen wore her skin.
Now she rode toward it as a flame-touched outcast with power whispering at her veins and a stormwalker at her side.
Inside her satchel, the fire-sigil pulsed faintly. A warning. Or perhaps a heartbeat.
Beside her, Kaelen leaned in. "There's something you need to know before we enter."
"What?"
"If the Queen senses the bond between us, she might try to use it."
Seris's stomach twisted. "What bond?"
Kaelen hesitated, then: "When I touched you during the breach… I gave you more than my magic. I gave you a tether. Storm to flame. I didn't know it would root so deep."
Seris turned to him, heart thudding. "You're saying we're… bonded?"
"Not by accident," he said. "By choice. Mine."
"And mine," she said, without pause.
Their hands brushed—electric even without magic.
Above them, Emberhall loomed closer.
And somewhere within its burning halls, Queen Alaryss sat upon a throne of fire and secrets, waiting to test just how far her daughter would go to claim the power of the Crown of Cinders.