The gates of Emberhall groaned open, not with welcome—but judgment.
Seris rode beneath the archway flanked by obsidian gargoyles shaped like serpents wreathed in flame. The inner courtyard, once a place of childhood memories and sunlit practice duels, now felt like a battlefield awaiting a verdict.
Soldiers in red and black lined the marble path, their eyes sharp, hands resting on sword hilts. At the center of it all, Queen Alaryss stood at the base of the Flame Stair, her crown glinting like molten gold.
She was radiant—and terrifying.
Her presence had always filled a room, but now, it felt like gravity itself bowed to her. Her eyes met Seris's, and though her face revealed nothing, her flames flickered higher. Beside her stood Thalos, smirking like a vulture over fresh carrion.
"You return with skyborn filth," Thalos sneered. "And a traitorous windblade."
Kaelen stiffened. Arin growled.
But Seris dismounted slowly, regal despite the soot and wear of travel. Her voice rang out, unshaken.
"I return having sealed a mirror breach and halted an invasion from beyond the veil. You may not like my companions, but they helped save your kingdom."
Alaryss tilted her head. "Is that what you call it? Saving?"
"I chose not to take the Crown of Cinders. I chose not to become what the Mirror Queen wanted. Doesn't that matter?"
Thalos stepped forward, voice slick. "What matters is that you communed with a cursed relic, consorted with elemental enemies, and awakened powers that were meant to sleep. You are no longer a girl. You are a weapon waiting to be used—or broken."
Seris's eyes burned. "Then break me."
Gasps rippled. Even Thalos faltered.
But Alaryss lifted a hand, silencing the court.
"No," the queen said slowly. "You are not broken. Not yet."
She descended the steps, each movement deliberate, commanding. When she reached Seris, they stood face to face—mother and daughter, queen and heir.
"You carry something ancient in you now," Alaryss said softly. "Flame deeper than blood. You've glimpsed what lies beneath the throne. That cannot be undone."
"I didn't ask for it."
"No one ever does," Alaryss murmured. "The first Flame Sovereign begged the fire not to choose her. It did anyway."
Seris's voice trembled. "So what happens now?"
Alaryss turned to the court.
"My daughter will stand trial—not for her power, but for the choices she's made. Three days from now, beneath the Ember Moon, she will be judged by flame and council. If she is found worthy, she shall remain heir to the Ember Throne."
"And if I'm not?" Seris asked.
"Then you will burn."
Silence fell like a curtain.
Kaelen stepped forward. "This is madness."
"It is law," Alaryss said coldly. "And you, skyborn, will remain under watch until the trial. As will the windblade."
Seris opened her mouth—but Kaelen touched her arm.
"It's all right," he said quietly. "We'll be ready."
She nodded, but her heart pounded like a war drum.
---
That night, they were given chambers—lavish but heavily warded.
Seris paced as Arin locked the door and set wind wards of her own.
"This is a trap," Arin said flatly. "You know that, right?"
"I know," Seris said, staring at the fire in the hearth. "But I can't run from it."
Kaelen leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "She doesn't want to kill you. Not really."
"She wants to see what I'll do," Seris whispered. "She wants to see if I'll burn."
Kaelen walked to her, gently turning her toward him. "Then don't give her what she wants. You're not just fire anymore, Seris. You're storm and ember. Fury and mercy."
Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—something bright and aching.
Arin cleared her throat loudly. "If you two start kissing, I'm leaving."
Seris laughed—half nerves, half genuine—and Kaelen gave Arin a dry look. "I make no promises."
Outside, bells tolled across Emberhall. The trial would be in three days.
Three days to prepare. Three days to decide not just who she was…
…but what kind of queen she would become.
And in the shadows of the Ember Palace, a figure cloaked in silver flame watched the tower where Seris slept—and whispered:
> "She will never wear the crown. Not if I reach it first."