Three spirals now marked Seraphira's wrist.
The First Flame, ancient and cursed.
The Second Shadow, bound to the Devil King.
And now the Third still forming, shifting, humming with power deeper than prophecy.
The Sleepers had not named it.
They only warned:
"It is not a gift.
It is not a curse.
It is a choice that cannot be unmade."
And in that moment, as her spiral pulsed with an unfamiliar rhythm, Seraphira understood…
This was the ring that no ruler before her had borne.
Because no one before her had been willing to become more than what they were given.
The Sleepers watched as she traced the mark.
You could leave now, one said, a voice like cracking stone. Return to the kingdoms. Claim the thrones. Fulfill the surface prophecy.
But, said another, if you wish to understand the third spiral then you must go deeper.
Deeper? Seraphira asked.
The central Sleeper stepped forward.
"To the core of the spiral."
"To the place even we were forbidden."
"To the Cradle of the First Fire."
The Cradle lay beneath even the mountain's roots.
There were no paths. No maps. No light.
Only a spiral stair, descending endlessly into black.
Elena grasped Seraphira's arm before she could enter. If you go down there, you might not come back.
Seraphira looked at her with steady eyes. Then I will come back… changed.
Theryn nodded once. We'll wait.
And with that, she went down alone.
The spiral stair twisted through time itself.
With each step, Seraphira saw visions:
A girl in flames, screaming in a cradle.
A boy made of ash and bone, kneeling to a crown.
A world split by fear, not fate.
A circle of kings, tearing a spiral into a scroll and calling it prophecy.
And then… silence.
At the bottom, she found it.
A chamber of fire and void.
At its center burned a single living flame not red or gold, but white.
Pure. Untouched. Alive.
The First Fire.
The source of all magic, all prophecy, all spiral.
And it spoke:
"You are not chosen."
"You are choosing."
"And that is more dangerous than anything I ever gave the others."
Seraphira stepped forward.
What is the third spiral? she asked.
The flame answered:
"It is not a power. It is a permission."
"To unwrite the prophecy. To make a new one."
"But know this, if you accept it, the world may follow you… or break trying."
Seraphira stood silent.
Then she placed her hand in the flame.
And it did not burn.
It welcomed her.
When she emerged from the depths, her eyes had changed.
One burned like Kaelreth's.
The other glowed white with the spiral's third fire.
The Sleepers bowed not in obedience, but in recognition.
"You carry the Cradle now," they said.
"And the world will tremble to see what you do with it."
🌑 In the Underworld…
Kaelreth staggered as the flame within his chest flared, uncontrolled.
She's accepted it, he whispered, clutching the wall.
Malkor looked horrified. What does it mean?
Kaelreth's face was pale.
"It means… the prophecy is no longer hers to fulfill."
"It is hers to rewrite."