The dawn was gentle, but Elira's body trembled as if the storm still raged within her. The crown pulsed faintly, no longer tearing at her chest but leaving her drained, every breath a struggle.
Kael stayed close, his hand steady on her shoulder. "Rest. The Ashbound can rebuild without you for now."
Elira shook her head weakly. "No… they need to see me endure. If I falter, the crown falters."
She rose slowly, each step heavy, but the Ashbound watched in silence as she stood. Her flame flickered, fragile yet alive. The sight alone steadied their hearts.
An Emberkin elder approached, his torch burning with both fire and smoke. "Flamebearer, recovery is not weakness. It is endurance. Let dawn heal you, so night cannot break you again."
Elira closed her eyes, whispering, "Then let dawn be my breath. Let flame and smoke carry me until I can carry them."