The sky above Emberhold bled crimson. Ash fell like snow, soft but suffocating. The highest tower of the citadel shook with the clash of blade against blade—Kael and Valas, two sons of fire and darkness, locked in a war that began long before they were born.
Their swords, forged in ancient flame and cursed legacy, sparked like stars every time they met. Every strike reverberated across the battlefield below, like gods themselves warring in the heavens.
"You were always the favorite," Valas snarled, dodging a flaming arc. "Always the golden son."
Kael lunged, their swords locking. "You left us. You gave in to the darkness."
Valas twisted, flipping backward. "No, brother. I embraced the truth. We were never meant to serve the mortals. We were born to rule them."
"You sound just like him," Kael spat. "The Unmade King."
Valas grinned. "That's because he is me. Or I… am him."
Far beneath the duel, in the ruined Temple of Thorns, Seraphine moved swiftly with Zafira, descending into the hidden catacombs. The old priestess had whispered of a truth buried beneath the stone—one that could break the siege or destroy them all.
Torches flickered to life as they entered a chamber carved from obsidian and laced with veins of gold. In the center stood an altar, and on it—a pendant, glowing faintly with pulsing red and white light.
Zafira's eyes widened. "That… is the Phoenix Tear."
Seraphine stepped forward, something in her blood resonating.
"Only one born of fire and starlight may awaken it," the runes read.
Seraphine hesitated. "My mother was human…"
"No," Zafira whispered. "She wasn't."
"She was Celestian. A child of the Astral Court. The last of the Star-Wardens."
The pendant blazed as Seraphine touched it. The force of it threw her back, visions searing her mind—of her mother cloaked in celestial armor, of the Vault sealed not with locks, but with sacrifice.
"Your blood is the other key," Zafira whispered. "To seal it… or to open it."
Back on the tower, Kael faltered. Valas's words echoed.
"He is me. Or I… am him."
Kael stared at his brother, horrified. "You let him in?"
Valas's eyes shifted—no longer his own. Now they were pitch black, rimmed with silver.
"I invited him, brother."
The Unmade King had no need for resurrection. He had simply needed a vessel. A prince. A key.
Kael dropped to one knee, fire surging around him. "I'll burn you out."
Valas laughed. "You'll burn everything."
Before Valas could strike, a burst of light crashed through the tower window.
Seraphine.
She stood on a winged steed of starlight, the Phoenix Tear glowing on her chest, her eyes ablaze with white flame.
"You will not touch him," she said, voice layered with something ancient.
Valas recoiled, shielding his eyes. "Celestian… You're her daughter!"
Seraphine landed beside Kael, holding out her hand. "Kael. We seal him together. Now."
Their hands met.
Aether and fire collided, spiraling around them. The tower shook, the sky split. Their powers merged—not as prince and bride, but as soul-bound anchors of two dying legacies.
Kael whispered, "I trust you."
Seraphine answered, "Then let's rewrite fate."
They lifted their joined hands.
The light pierced Valas's chest. He screamed—not just him, but the Unmade King inside him. Shadows fled his eyes as the body crumbled, breaking apart like ash in wind.
The Vault across the realm pulsed. The seals reforged.
The war ended—not with death, but with light.
The siege broke within minutes. With Valas gone, the God-Blooded army dissolved like mist. The people of Emberhold poured from the shelters, their cheers rising with the dawn.
Kael stood atop the balcony, Seraphine beside him. He no longer bore the expression of a cursed heir—but of a king reborn.
"We didn't just survive," Seraphine said softly. "We changed everything."
He took her hand. "Then let's build something worthy of it."