The Flame of Endings had a name.
Selene learned it in a language that had no words.
No vowels.
No breath.
Only flame vibrating against memory.
A name sung in the rhythm of ash settling after a battle.
Varasha.
When the name settled inside her, Selene felt the air shift around her heart.
Not like a blade.
Not like a curse.
More like a question that refused to leave.
Three days passed with no word from the other flames.
The mirror remained dark.
The flame veins in the city dimmed.
And the people, though safe, felt the burn of something approaching.
Not fire.
Fate.
Selene left the palace alone.
No guards.
No court.
Only the flame lily pin on her chest and her bare hands, free of blade or scroll.
She rode into the Black Hollow, a stretch of scorched land untouched since the first kingdom fell.
Where the First Flame was said to have walked.
Where echoes still sang at night.
And where Varasha had said she would return.
Ingrid tried to follow.
Cassian begged her not to go alone.
But Selene turned once at the gate and said:
"You followed me when I was not myself."
"Now let me walk into something that might be."
The Hollow was cold.
Not with wind.
With absence.
No birds.
No skyfire.
Not even the buzz of bugs in the grass.
Only silence that pressed like velvet against the skin.
And in the center, a tree made of emberstone, long-dead, but not collapsed.
Burnt black.
Still rooted.
A single bloom at its top.
Red. Bright. Alive.
Selene stood before it.
And waited.
Varasha appeared like heat rising off a forge.
Not stepping forward.
Emerging.
Her cloak still sunsteel, eyes covered in a veil of white thread, fingers gloved in ancient binding.
"You came," she said.
"I had to," Selene replied.
Varasha tilted her head.
"Why?"
Selene took a breath.
"Because I'm tired of being the last to know what I am."
Varasha circled the tree.
Spoke slowly.
"There were seven of us."
"Seven born or chosen?"
Varasha paused.
"Does it matter?"
"It does if I was made. Not born."
Varasha touched the blackened bark.
"All flames are born. But not all are given names."
Selene stepped closer.
"You walked the fire before me."
"I walked through it."
"Did you fight?"
"I ended."
Selene frowned.
"Ended what?"
Varasha turned, and for the first time, lifted her veil.
Her eyes were dark. Not empty.
Full of endings.
Tombs.
Final pages.
The last heartbeat of a kingdom no longer remembered.
"I ended kingdoms that forgot why they were lit in the first place."
Selene didn't step back.
"I've burned armies."
"You burned to survive."
"You say that like it's shameful."
Varasha blinked slowly.
"No. I say it because it's incomplete."
A gust of wind passed through the Hollow.
The bloom at the tree's top trembled.
Not a petal fell.
Selene felt it.
Magic.
Buried.
Waiting.
"Why now?" she asked.
"Why are the flames waking now?"
Varasha turned back to the tree.
"You burned too bright."
"And that summoned you?"
"It summoned memory."
Selene crossed her arms.
"Is this a reunion?"
Varasha's voice grew distant.
"This is a reckoning."
"Of what?"
"Of what we allowed fire to become."
The Hollow groaned.
The ground cracked beneath Selene's feet.
She didn't flinch.
Varasha smiled faintly.
"You are brave."
"I'm exhausted."
"Good. That means you've felt the weight."
Selene's voice was quieter now.
"I don't want to carry it alone anymore."
Varasha walked up to her.
Not close. Just enough.
"Then let me show you what comes after."
She reached out.
Her gloved hand touched Selene's forehead.
There was no pain.
Only pressure.
And then…
A thousand images.
A kingdom burning from inside out.
A queen holding her own child over a pyre.
Flames whispering names of the dead who never asked for power.
A girl with no face sitting atop a pile of crowns.
A torch placed into Selene's hands, but by whose?
Selene gasped.
Staggered back.
"What was that?"
"The memory of the Fifth Flame."
"Where is she?"
"Waiting."
"For what?"
Varasha turned away again.
"For you to decide if your rule is worth her waking."
Selene's heart pounded.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
This wasn't war.
This was a test.
And she was both weapon and subject.
"You're testing me."
Varasha nodded once.
"We all are."
"I didn't ask to be judged."
"You didn't ask to be born in fire either."
Selene bit her tongue.
"And the others?"
"They will come when they choose."
"Do they all want me to fall?"
"No."
"Then what do they want?"
Varasha looked back one last time.
"To see if you burn alone."
The Hollow pulsed.
Time bent inward.
And Varasha faded.
Leaving Selene beneath a tree that had not bloomed in 1,000 years.
But now held two flowers.
She picked one.
Held it in her hand.
Its stem glowed gold.
Its petals flickered red.
Not burning.
Breathing.
Alive.
She returned to Veredon by dusk.
Ingrid met her at the gate.
Cassian stood just behind.
Selene said nothing.
She only handed Ingrid the bloom.
And whispered:
"There's more fire in the world than I thought."
"But none of it scares me anymore."
She walked into the Flame Hall and sat the throne.
Not because it was time to command.
But because it was time to wait.
For the others.
For the next voice.
For the fifth flame.
The war hadn't begun.
But the choosing had.
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