Dawn broke over the royal capital, but the morning mist clinging to the Fire Abyss Hall had barely lifted when undercurrents began surging within and beyond the city walls.
News of the "Night of the Flame Oath" had barely spread when remnants of the old nobility accelerated their capital flight and escape, while surviving members of the Holy See's "Ashbone Chamber" stealthily infiltrated markets, plotting to incite chaos. Aveline sat upon her throne, her gaze cold and voice steady as she issued orders to Lucian and Illya: "Thoroughly investigate all routes of capital flight. Seal the city for three days. Any attempt to leave shall be met with death."
Illya departed to carry out her command, Silver Oath shields blocking all major entrances, while Lucian ventured alone into the underground ley lines to a forbidden relic: the Flame Rune Pact—a cursed ritual once used to bind souls between royalty and their closest retainers. If revived, it would add an unshakable layer of control to the royal authority.
Deep within the palace, the "Flame Rune Vault" had remained unopened for a century. Aveline personally entered with her flame scepter, Lucian at her side. As he lightly brushed the ancient royal insignias on the stone walls, he asked, "You plan to revive this magic? It's something even the Flame Kings of old feared."
"I fear only thin loyalty," she replied flatly. "If flame oaths are not enough, let souls swear the vow."
They stood at the center of the flame rune array. Crimson fire seals emerged between stone pillars, and runes rose slowly into the air. She sliced open her left palm, letting blood the flame core, then turned to Lucian.
Without hesitation, he removed his glove and pressed his fingertips to her palm. Blood merged with blood; fire runes ignited instantly. Entwined incantations appeared between their bodies, coiling like fire serpents.
Flame light blazed in both their pupils—the Flame Rune Pact was sealed.
She smiled suddenly, her voice low and husky: "You can't escape now, Lucian."
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he pulled her into his arms, murmuring against her ear: "As I've always wanted, Your Majesty."
After the pact was sealed, they retreated to the private chambers of the "Emberlight Hall," a royal sanctuary for times of respite. Fire-runed stone floors and flame-wreathed walls surrounded them, while sound-dampening arrays activated, cutting off all prying eyes and ears.
Lucian pinned Aveline against the flame-wreathed wall, his tongue tracing the flame rune on her neck: "Your blood flows in me now… you're part of me."
She gasped, her trailing down his chest, whispering: "Prove it."
He kissed her lips without restraint, pressing her against the wall as his hand slipped beneath her robes, caressing her waist before sliding to the apex of her thighs. He knelt, his mouth and tongue claiming her without hesitation.
Her fingers dug into the stone wall, her body trembling as moans echoed between the flame runes. Heat spread through her, and she arched uncontrollably as climax tore through her like a tongue of fire, from the inside out.
He stood, stripping off his robes, and sheathed himself inside her. They tangled like flames, bodies undulating as the sounds of their coupling mingled with gasps.
She lifted a leg to wrap around his waist, murmuring: "No tenderness."
"I know no tenderness," he in her ear, thrusts intensifying, "only loyalty."
Each deep stroke ignited blazing fire marks at their union—a trigger of the flame rune incantation. This was more than physical union; it was a testament to souls interwoven, forever bound.
When their second climax hit, both gasping and moaning, every flame lamp in the Emberlight Hall flared to life, as if heaven and earth themselves were celebrating.
The next morning, a royal decree spread through the capital: all subjects who sealed the Flame Rune Pact with the crown would receive the "Eternal Faith Medal," granting lifetime seats in the new governing council.
Any noble who refused would forfeit land and family name forever.
Illya stood on the capital's high platform, watching thousands of citizens cheer, while Lucian stood behind Aveline, clutching the flame rune seal—crimson as blood, profound as life itself.
"When you first ascended," he said, "who could have imagined you'd rewrite the world's rules with passion and fire?"
She turned to him, smiling softly: "I rewrote you first."