A storm raged over the Flame Cliff, the sky hanging low, thunder and lightning lashing the charred mountain ridges like whips.
Evelyn stood atop the cliff peak, her flame crown stirring in the wind, crimson rage burning in her eyes. Her battle robe hung half off her shoulders, bloodstains—fresh from enemies and her own wounds—spattering her collarbone. The Royal Flame Army was trapped in bitter combat; the vanguard had been split in the Taras Woodlands, the Silver Oath Shield was,and Lucian, with the main force, had not yet returned.
"The enemy knows you stand alone." A low, magnetic male voice came from behind.
She did not turn, but she knew who it was.
"The lingering soul of Casas… dare to show yourself again."
"Did you think death could imprison me?" Casas's spirit slowly materialized from the flames, his face pale yet as striking as ever. His long hair flowed like night mist, his robe woven as if from smoke and fire. He was no longer a king, yet he still carried that unignorable aura of dominance.
"You come to make me submit?" Evelyn snorted, her longsword never leaving her grasp.
"I come to warn you—you are burning yourself out." Casas approached slowly, his fingers tracing a faint line in the air, and the flames trembled in response. "You inherited my blood, but you will never be me."
"I have no need to be you." Evelyn turned, flames erupting to ignite the space between them.
Yet Casas stepped through the fire in a single stride, drawing close in an instant. He caught her wrist, his gaze intense. "But nor can you remain merely Evelyn. You are the Flame King."
Their breaths tangled in the wind. Evelyn trembled faintly, the exhaustion after battle and the unspeakable loneliness in her heart now pinpointed by this once-demon.
"You want me?" she whispered, a mocking glint in the corner of her eye. "What will you trade this time?"
Casas's fingers brushed her lips, his murmur like poison. "I only want you to remember—who awakened the true flame within you."
His lips crashed onto hers, domineering and scorching, as if he would devour her soul along with her body. Evelyn shoved him away violently, but in the next second, her hand shot out to clutch his cloak, yanking him back roughly.
Flames danced wild between them, their bodies colliding amid the blaze. Robes tore, skin pressed against skin—she fought as if wrestling with her own desires, while he consumed her entirely, a calamity made flesh.
Casas murmured against her ear, "You need not love me, Evelyn. You need only burn."
"Shut up." She sank her teeth into his shoulder, dragging the battle into their bodies like a beast.
On that thunderous night, they tangled beneath the flame scars, tearing at each other as if they would never meet again.
Before dawn, Evelyn stood alone on the high platform, clad in armor once more, a trace of blood on her lips. Casas had long since vanished, as if the night had been no more than a nightmare.
She placed the crown back on her head, her gaze steady as fire. "Send the order—the Flame Army marches out. We strike directly at the Cracked Moon."